


Stages of Friendship, Love, and Kisses

by babyvfan



Series: Stages [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But Very Much Worth It, Canon Retelling, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Good Slytherins, M/M, Mating, Mentor Severus Snape, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slytherin Harry Potter, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 300,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyvfan/pseuds/babyvfan
Summary: Every story begins with a stage. Every stage begins with a moment. For two young boys, their story began with a snake and a kiss. A kiss that would act as a ripple in the water, sinking deeper and deeper as the years go by and the boys go through moments and stages that strength and test their friendship





	1. First Impression and Initiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlenightdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlenightdragon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five Stages of Kissing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075834) by [babyvfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyvfan/pseuds/babyvfan). 



> Loosely based off the first drarry story I did, Five Stages of Kissing. My friend Ash loved it and thought I could extend the story, and here we are. And finally I also decided to post it here as well.

Platinum blonde hair gelled and combed, dressed in the finest robes from his closet that was a shade or two darker than his gray eyes, five year old Draco Malfoy looked every bit as the adorable and perfect pureblood child that he was. Clothes pressed, well put-together, not a hair out of place.

Too bad his clean-cut, sparkling appearance didn't match the depressing gray clouding inside of him.

"Straighten up!" His father's command was sharp as a knife. The young boy's head immediately shot up; his back straightened.

He snuck a peek over at his father lounging in his favorite chair in the drawing room. He was passing the time which felt particularly long to the child by reading the paper, the  _Daily Prophet_.

"Yes father." Draco mumbled, trying not to sulk.

His attempt apparently didn't have enough effort behind it. A frown crossed his mother's pretty face as she looked over at him. A dark-brown brow lifted slightly.

"Draco," she warned.

The sulking child huffed and crossed his arms, looking down at the polished floors beneath his feet to avoid his parents' pointed looks. His reflection stared back at him, looking just as sullen, as if he sucked a sour lemon.

He supposed deep down, in the deepest and darkest corners of his mind, he was acting like the brat Blaise always accused him of being. He couldn't help it though.

He hated Sundays. Hated them with a special sort of hatred that was reserved for the assignments his tutors gave him and the Weasleys. And for good reasons, too. Sundays were the shortest days of the week. One minute it was morning, and in a blink of the eye it was nighttime. His parents were often busier. And-the worst of them all-a special event took place every other Sunday which he enjoyed as much as a Muggle-child enjoyed a visit to the strange teeth doctor.

Sunday tea.

He could never understand how his parents could stand dealing with the guests that were invited over for more than a minute. The men were mean, measuring him with their cool gazes. Draco wished more than once he could respond with a kick to the ankle instead of the smile he usually pasted on. The women were no better. He lost the numbers of times his nose nearly died on the spot from the nasty perfume they doused themselves in. In a matter of seconds they ruined the hair that took the house-elves minutes to perfect, running their fingers all over it. And each time he found it more and more difficult not to spit into their faces when they cooed at him like he was a porcelain doll and yanked his cheeks.

But this Sunday tea was different. Another pure-blood would be coming, but this pureblood was a newcomer in his parents' social circle even though he was part of a family that has been around for centuries, rich in wealth and influence.

A newcomer pureblood with an unusual wife.

She wasn't a pure-blood. She wasn't even new money, which would have been more acceptable. Or even a half-blood. That could have been over-looked, though just a bit. No, she was in fact a Muggle-born witch. A mudblood.

When Draco had been told this over breakfast, he nearly spat out his juice.

_A mudblood?_  A mudblood was coming over to their house? More importantly, his father was actually going to allow it?

He turned over to his father, needing an explanation. His mother had provided one.

Lily Evans-Potter was a medi-witch, apparently one of the finest the medical field had seen in years, earning great recognition for her work in not only London but all of Europe, just reaching some parts of North America. And she was a good friend of Snape.

The first bit of information raised Draco's eyebrows, but the second one? His mouth nearly dropped.

Snape? As in his godfather, Severus Snape, who could be grouchy and unpleasant most of the time even if he did like you. Which applied to very few people. He found ninety percent of the population unworthy of his time, except for the infamous, sharp verbal lashing he spat out. Draco had witness a few Hogwarts students nearly breaking down in tears from those lashings.

"Severus was how I met Lily," Mother said. "She was over at his house when I stopped by for tea. Turns out the rumors of her brilliance weren't in vain. She was quite impressive."

He turned over to his father, who shrugged easily.

"For a muggle-born, she seems to be quite the rarity," He buttered his toast. "I suppose Potter could have done worse."

Potter. Potter. Draco was vaguely familiar with the name. Now he remembered. Potter as in James Potter, who served as an Auror for the Ministry. If he recalled correctly, he was one of the few people at the Ministry his father didn't find to be a complete nuisance.

As odd as the paring were, they weren't the reason why Draco was sulking. It was because of the extra person the Potters would be bringing along with them.

Their son, Harry. According to Mother, he was close to his age. A "wonderful" boy.

"I think you two would get along well, Dragon." she smiled.

A snort emerged from his father as he glanced over at Draco, a ghostly smirk turning his lip. It only showed that, as busy as his father was, he did know him. He knew him well enough to know that Draco hated being roped into watching over the children of their guests.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew there was a motive behind the Sunday tea. Along with conversing with their friends, it was also for Draco to build a circle of his own. To make friends.

Too bad for his parents, he found every single child that accompanied the guest to be a pest.

In the beginning, he didn't mind hosting the younger guests. In fact he loved it. Being trusted to handle the children while his parents took care of the parents gave him pride. It made him feel important. Grown-up. Plus, it meant having someone other than his parents and the house-elves to talk to. Someone his own age to show off his new toys to, to play with. As time went on, though, the job quickly went from being exciting to boring. The children his parents' guests brought over weren't fun anymore. None could keep his attention longer than a few seconds before they bored him completely. On top of that, they were just annoying.

No doubt this Harry would be just like the others.

Green flames roared from the fireplace. Their guests had finally arrived. Draco braced himself.

_Please let this afternoon tea go by quickly_ , he begged Merlin.  _Please_.  _Please. Pretty Please._

The first thing to step out from the Floo was a long, jean-clad leg. Attached to that leg was a man who was tall as Father, dressed in Muggle clothes though they did look to be in good quality so Draco dismissed the offense. His hair was remarkably dark, a deep shade of black, and shaggy. Behind his glasses, a pair of dark eyes sparked with a certain light as he looked over at the family, saving Draco for last. Unlike the other men who waved him off with a barely-acknowledged glance, the man kneeled down and smiled at him. A real, genuine smile.

_That's certainly rare_ , Draco thought, watching the man. So this was James Potter. He didn't seem too bad. Though the clothes could be better, he seemed alright.

"My, my, my. Your parents certainly held back. They told me you were a cute boy, not a strapping young man," James looked past his shoulder to smile over at his parents. "I'd watch him closely if I were you, Narcissa. I see a mischievous prankster in this one. Could even grow up to be a heart-breaker."

His mother rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging on her lips. His father appeared amused.

James winked at Draco, as if they shared a secret. Before Draco could react, the Floo roared again.

A woman emerged from the flames walking into the room with such elegance it stunned Draco that she wasn't a pureblood. She certainly possessed the looks. Though she wasn't as regal as his mother, there was something striking about her. Something that drew the eye. Waves of fiery red hair tumbled down her shoulders and the most striking pair of green eyes smiled as they looked down at him.

And she wasn't alone.

Attached to her hand, holding onto it as if it was his life-line, was a small boy. He was practically a miniature version of James. He was Draco's opposite in almost every way. Hair dark and wild as opposed to Draco's styled white-blonde hair. Piercing green eyes behind large-round framed glasses to clear mercury gray. A red and black shirt and jeans to Draco's robes.

Draco had no idea how closely he was studying the boy until the touch of his mother's hand on his shoulder brought him back.

His mother smiled at the woman. "Hello Lily."

"Narcissa," the woman-acclaimed healer, Severus' friend-smiled. "It's lovely to see you again."

"You as well," Mother smiled down at the boy who was too scared to meet her eye. "Hello Harry."

"Hello Mrs. Malfoy."

"Now, Harry, none of that. Like I told you before, it's Aunt Narcissa or Cissa."

Well, that was certainly surprising. It usually took guests a year before they reached first-name basis with Mother.

"This is my son, Draco," Mother said. "You two can play together today."

Harry looked like he was fine just where he was, close by his mother's side, looking down at the floor. His mother didn't agree. With a gentle smile, she pried her hand free and nudged him forward.

"It's alright, Harry. Don't be shy."

Harry finally looked up. Draco, who at this point was ready to pretend that he was sick to avoid this play-date, sucked in a sharp breath.

Being so close to him, Draco saw how truly amazing those eyes were. Big, bright, and incredibly green. Like two pieces of emerald with a certain light in them that both baffled and intrigued him. Even though the boy's mother shared the same eye color, Harry's just seemed…more to Draco. Bigger, brighter, more beautiful.

Looking into those eyes, Draco felt something slither inside him as those green-green eyes looked at him. Something odd that moved like a snake, sparking a strange warmth that coiled in the pit of his stomach. He nearly shivered.

His mother once again brought him back as she gently nudged him closer. He knew what would happen next. He'd reach out his hand, Harry would take it, and then they'd go to either his room or the playroom while the adults stayed here. Recognizing his cue, Draco stuck his out his hand and waited patiently for Harry's. But the boy either didn't know the steps or didn't care for the dance, leaving Draco to hold nothing but the air that slipped through his fingers. He didn't accept his hand.

He did, however, follow Draco as he escorted them upstairs to his wing. Harry didn't say a word, but his eyes said enough as they looked over the house, taking in the paintings, the statues, the chandeliers, and portraits of past Malfoys and Blacks that stared back at him curiously.

Those bright green-emeralds were wide as saucers as they entered his room. Draco smiled, pleased.

His room certainly was impressive if he did say so himself. The size of two master bedrooms rolled into one, it was large and very open, painted in light shades of blue and silver. Sunshine poured from the wide, opened windows. His bed, a king-size poster canopy, was pushed against the wall with the curtains swaying slightly by the light breeze that blew into the room. Right across from the fireplace. Large toy chests were set around the room, with the largest one that contained the very best of his treasures in front of his bed.

He expected the black-haired boy to immediately rush over to his toy-chest to see what laid inside. Almost every single kid had done that, acting as if they owed the place. He remembered one time some snot-nosed girl with strawberry blonde hair tore through his toy chests, going from one to the other, ignoring Draco's glares and screams for her to stop, tossing the toys aside in search of a doll. She was lucky that he didn't start learning magic yet, otherwise there'd be nothing left of her than bits of blonde hair and that puffy pink nightmare her mother dressed her in.

To his surprise, the boy didn't do that.

Draco turned over to find emerald-green eyes staring back at him, waiting. For what, he didn't know. Baffled, he nodded his head once. Harry took that as permission to settle himself onto the white Persian rug and play with the discarded train Draco tossed aside last night.

As Harry played quietly, Draco grabbed hold of his bed's railing and watched his new companion.

He definitely wasn't like the other kids. He was much quieter, more reserved. Even though he was smaller than Draco, there was a sense of bright intelligence that gleamed in those too-green eyes that spoke of maturity, which nearly made Draco feel inferior. However, not in a bad way. There was also shyness there, one which stirred something in him, making him want to draw the boy out of his shell.

He decided to do just that.

"The train is alright, but it's nothing compared to my other toys," Harry's head looked up from the train over to him. "Wanna see?"

He didn't jump at the offer, not right away. He fixed his host with an odd look that was the exact same as the one he pinned him with downstairs. As if he was being tested. After getting acquainted with him for a few minutes, Draco could see that his companion was one that acted with caution. It made him wonder how he was like with the other children from his neighborhood. He seemed like the type who'd slip away to a quiet corner to be alone with his book while the other children played.

_It just means he's careful._  Draco decided that it wasn't a bad thing. It was certainly different. Then again he was starting to see Harry was a different sort of boy. Draco offered the boy a small smile and gestured for him to come forward. Harry eyed him for a moment or two before complying, lifting himself off the ground and walking over to him.

Draco pressed his thumb against the trunk's smooth moonstone jewel, explaining that the toy-chest was a magical one and could only be unlocked by his signature, which would be his thumb-print. Once his thumb was scanned and accepted, the lock disappeared and the trunk popped open. He eagerly showed off what his chest held. Trains and figures that came to life with a touch of his hand, flying over their heads or marching around the room. Miniature figures as small as his pinky that grew the moment they were set down. The toy-brooms his father had gotten him over the years, each one top of the line and fast, though they were nowhere as incredible to the real thing.

"Mother wants to wait till I'm older to get a real broom," Draco grumbled, settling the sleek black one Father had gotten him last Christmas, "Most likely till I get my letter to Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head, his lips turning into a slight frown. Draco took that as a sign that he agreed with him. He was happy to see he wasn't the only one being denied the pleasure of riding an actual broom.

He saved the best toy for last. A recent purchase his mother had gotten for him from her visit in Romania: a long, five-foot silver and green snake made from the smoothest and most indestructible glass.

"He's my favorite."

"How come?" Harry asked, curious. There were the first two words the boy had said since they've been alone. Draco was pleased that he was able to make it happen.

"Watch," Harry looked at him questioningly, Draco smiled and set the snake to the ground, instructing Harry to stand next to him. When they have spread out a bit space between them and the toy, he looked over at the snake, rolling his tongue over the roof of his mouth. He remembered what Mother had told him about words, how one must use feel and command to unleash the power within them. " _Change._ "

For a moment nothing happened. The snake stayed a statue. Harry looked at the toy, then over at Draco. Draco frowned, wondering what he did wrong.

Then both boys became aware of a vibration pulsing at their feet. They looked over. The jewels encrusted on snake's body began to shift, arranging themselves into certain spots here and there, while the still body became to move, twisting and curling, until the last stone was set. Once it was done, the snake went from a work of art to the actual creature.

"Wow," Harry said in a hushed-breath, his eyes wide. A smile curved those pink lips as the snake began to move. "Cool."

Not only had he gotten words from the boy, but a compliment. And a smile. Draco's pride grew at the sight of the smile, which transformed Harry's face from pleasing to-dare he say it-pretty. He smiled back, pleased. "Mother won't let me have pets. She thinks they're too messy, and she worries about the furniture. So she had this made for me. His name is Slyther. At the sound of my voice, he can change into an actual snake and stays that way for however long I want."

The serpent blinked his eyes several times, as if he needed time to adjust to his new condition, before looking up to his two spectators. His tongue peeked from his sealed lips, followed by a sharp hiss that warned of trouble if he was disturbed.

Intrigued, Harry kneeled before the snake and held out his hand. The creature's eyes narrowed, going from the boy's face to his hand. His pet must have seen something in Harry's eyes, something good, because, unlike previous times when people have beckoned the snake only to get bitten, he came to Harry and ran his tongue over his skin. Harry giggled and, waiting a moment or two, stroked the snake's head. In response, the snake closed his eyes as he lifted his head slightly higher to reach the boy's hand, looking content. If Slyther was a cat, Draco imagined he would be purring at this point.

_I like this one, master_ , Slyther said to Draco, his flat tone surprisingly pleasant.  _Good hands._

Like Uncle Severus, Slyther was not an easy one to please when it came to people. Before Harry, the only person who was permitted to touch him without the fear of a bite would be Draco. Yet in a matter of seconds with a steady patience, Harry practically had Slyther eating out of his hands.

_He does have good hands,_ Draco agreed. They were a good pair as far hands went. They were pale, almost as pale as marble. And looked soft. Draco's eyes swept over his face. He also had good eyes. And a good smile. And a good laugh. Draco liked the sound of his laughter. He wanted it to hear more of it. He wanted to be apart of that laughter.

Copying Slyther, he got down on his hands and knees. When he had Harry's attention, he pouted his lips, curled his tongue, and let it rip. The sound that came out him didn't sound at all like Slyther. It sounded like a snake, though by no means a strong one. It sounded pathetic; more than pathetic. But it seemed his effort didn't completely go to waste.

It got the reaction he wanted.

Harry laughed. He actually laughed. Much longer, too, than he had with Slyther. His eyes were shining like beautiful pieces of emerald as they looked at him, causing a smile to spread across his face and warmth to curl in his stomach. He decided to join in the fun, getting down on his hands and knees, hissing right back at Draco. His hissing was no better. If anything it was worse. Nevertheless it caused him to laugh just the same.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Draco playfully hissed back. Harry hissed in return. It wasn't long before the two found themselves engaged in a hissing battle, seeing who'd come out on top even though they both sounded awful, making each other laugh with their silly faces and sounds.

Draco couldn't remember having this much fun with the other kids. Then again, the other children weren't like Harry. None were quiet as him, as serious. None came close to his silliness. Draco had suspected there was something buried deep inside his closed-up silence, and he was happy that underneath the seriousness there was humor. He looked so silly, so odd in a nice kind of way, with his tongue stuck out all the way that Draco leaned in close to get a better look at him. Then closer and closer. He didn't realize how close until his tongue was touching Harry's tongue, his lips covering Harry's lips.

Harry's body went still. The laughter came to an abrupt halt.

_Uh-oh._  Fear began pricking Draco's stomach as he slowly pulled back, scared of what the other boy might do or say.

The two stared at each other for what was almost forever, testing each other in a way, seeing who would make the first move, until it was finally broken by laughter. It was Harry who started it; his stilled lips quivering a bit by the corner until a smile began to grow, spreading across his face. The smile then turned to a giggle. Then another and another until the boy was a mess of giggles, falling onto his back, laughter exploding from him. Draco found himself following Harry's example, his lips quivering uncontrollably, giggles climbing up his throat, until finally they were set off in a loud burst of laughter.

"I think we did the serpent salute." Harry giggled, his words setting their already-loud round of laughter to a higher volume.

"Silly git." Draco managed to say in between giggles.

Harry laughed harder, which made him laugh twice as hard. It wasn't until a little while later that the two were finally able to control themselves and catch their breath.

"You're so weird." Draco declared.

"So are you." Harry argued, reminding him with a pointed look which one started the 'salute'

Draco opened his mouth to protest, then paused, thinking it over. The boy did have a point. "Fine. We're both weird."

"And silly gits."

"That, too, but you are first," Harry giggled. "Git."

A hint of wickedness touched his smile, revealing another layer beneath the shy exterior. A mischievous one that intrigued Draco as much as the silly side had. "Prat." he hissed.

"Git." Draco repeated in a hiss, flicking his tongue. The boys fell into another mess of giggles. It took even longer for them to catch their breath. Each time one would try to control to control himself, all it would took was a glance into the other's face for him to lost it all over again, laughing twice as hard.

Ten minutes later, tummies aching from so much laughter, the boys lay on the floor. Draco took in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He looked over at Harry. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed, and a tired smile turned his lips.

He liked this strange, quiet boy. He liked him a lot. He liked his wild, black hair that reminded him of a lion's mane. His unusual eyes that were the deepest, brightest shade of green he had ever seen. His smile, his laughter, his quiet presence and his silliness. He liked everything about him.

_My Harry_. Draco smiled. He liked the sound of that. His Harry. His boy.

Turning onto his side, he announced "You're my new best friend."

Harry tensed, his body completely still. He peered down up at Draco, surprise shining in his eyes along with fear.

That was not the reaction Draco had been expecting. He shouldn't be frightened. Draco's smile dimmed to a frown. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Harry looked up, then away. The action caused Draco to move closer to him.

"Tell me. What is it?"

Biting his lip, he confessed in a mumble "I never had a best friend before. Or an actual friend."

The confession stunned Draco. "Why not?"

He shrugged. He rested his head on his hands as he rolled onto his side, facing Draco. "The kids at school don't like me. They think I'm a freak."

_A freak?_  The word stirred hot, flashing rage inside Draco that was bubbling like a potion ready to explode. The insult stung as if it were aimed at him.

"A freak?" he repeated. Harry nodded. "Why would they possibly think that?"

"My cousin Dudley. He doesn't like me. He told everyone at school that I'm a freak. They all believed him. Some stay away from me. Others help him tease me."

Draco was suddenly hit with a great urge to find this Dudley and his band of buffoons and slice them all into pieces like he had seen Uncle Severus done with a few rats he needed for his potions. "Muggles?"

Harry frowned in confusion.

"People who aren't like us. Who can't do magic."

He nodded.

_Of course._

"They're idiots."

That got a smile out of his boy.

"I never had a best friend before either. I didn't like any of the other kids. They're not as fun as you."

His smile widened.

"Besides you should consider it a privilege," Draco told him. "I don't make friends with just anybody."

His words did just as he hoped-they made him laugh.

"You're so silly." Harry said between giggles.

"No, no, no dear Harry. I think we already agreed that you were it first."

"Prat."

"Git."

They burst into giggles once again.

This would be start of a beautiful friendship.


	2. Pending Insanity and Promising Vow

"So, Dragon," his mother said. "Did you have fun today?"

Gray eyes peered up at the questioning woman as she smiled down at him, a knowing gleam in her eyes that was unnerving. On one hand he wanted the silence to continue to show her that he was still annoyed with her and the other parents' intervening. On the other hand, she could misinterpret his silence as displeasure, which meant that today would be the last time he ever saw his friend again.

A ripple of fear shot through his chest. He quickly nodded his head.

To his amazement-and slight annoyance-the knowing look in his mother's eyes didn't disappear. It remained there, flashing. She smiled to herself as she tucked him in, smoothening out his blankets. Usually the house-elves were tasked with the chore of putting him to bed, but sometimes his mother liked to do the job herself, so they could have private time together.

Apparently she decided that their private time would be tonight.

After straightening his sheets, fluffing his pillows, and making sure he was tucked in, she sat down on the bed.

"So I take it by your nodding that Harry was in fact not like the other children?"

He nodded again, this time with a soft smile curving his lips.

"Really?" She arched a slim, dark eyebrow. "So you two did get along well?"

Even though he could see the trap she was setting with her words, even though he was determined to stick it out with the silence to prove how annoyed he still was, he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

The smile, however, did chip away as he thought about the day and a lesson Father taught him.

One of the many, many things Father told him was that a Malfoy does _not_  regret.

"Not only is regretting a trifle thing," he had said. "but it gives people the excuse to weep and wallow over what could have instead of focusing on the main objective, which would be the future. Time waits for no one, Draco. Nothing speeds up the process more than regret."

Draco didn't understand what he meant at the time, but nodded anyway because it was expected of him.

Even now he still didn't completely understand what his father had meant, but he did grasp one thing from the lesson.

Malfoys do not regret.

However, the young Malfoy found himself breaking that rule, regretting the prayer he had sent to Merlin before the Potters had arrived.

In his defense, he didn't mean for that prayer to come true. He thought the Sunday tea would go on forever, that his guest would have him tightening his fists and gritting his teeth. He thought the Potters would be boring. Also, he sent plenty of prayers to Merlin before, but those went unanswered. How was he to know that the Great Wizard would grant him this wish?

Time flew by in a blink of an eye. Draco and Harry-his new best friend, his boy, his Harry-spent every second of that time playing and laughing together. Playing with Slyther who taught them more on the technique of sliding and hissing, which the boys studied and copied. Though they didn't attempt the serpent salute again; Draco thought it should be saved for something special. He showed Harry more of his toys, his heart swelling at the amazement beaming in Harry's eyes. When they were done with the toys in the toy-chest, Draco took his playmate over to the playroom that carried even more treasures.

It was where their mothers had found them. Lying in the middle of the floor, discarded toys around them, hands entwined and shoulders touching.

"Aww," He recognized that tone and voice. Mother was cooing.

"They look so sweet and peaceful," Lily dropped her voice to a whisper, not wanting to disturb them. Draco was already awake when he heard his mother, but refused to open his eyes or move. He was happy just where he was. "I honestly don't want to wake them up."

"Me neither."

But they did. If it had been because they were needed for dinner, Draco would've understood that. Or to announce that they were staying longer. The news would have had him beaming for weeks. Sadly that wasn't the case. The boys were awakened because it was time for the Potters to go.

Meaning Harry had to go.

Draco fought against it tooth and nail.

" _No!_ " He held onto his friend for dear life, as if they were about to separated. Which they were, no thanks to their parents.

"Draco." Mother was using her brittle voice. The no-nonsense voice. A signal warning him to watch himself.

"No!"

"Draconis." His father was now involved, using his full name. A sign that he was trenching on thin ice. By the tone of his voice, Draco knew that the ice was very thin, becoming frailer by the second.

Unfortunately for his parents, his determination to keep his boy around was stronger than his fear of crossing them.

"My Harry!"

Father muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. Mother opened her mouth to order him to behave, but then paused, taking in what she was seeing, listening closely to what she was hearing. Puzzlement danced across her face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a small, strange, almost-knowing smile.

Unsure what the smile had meant, he turned over to the Potters, hoping they could be persuaded. He was surprised to see the same strange smile his mother wore on Lily's face, one that brightened as the women exchanged a private look.

"Can he stay? Please?" He was prepared to use his best trick: the puppy-eyes and pouted lips, two charms that always got him what he wanted.

"Can I, Mommy?" Draco almost broke his pouting mask, hearing Harry speak. Like the great friend he was, he was offering backup. "At least for tonight? Please Daddy."

"Well," For a second, it looked like the twin puppy-eyes were working. James was thinking about the situation, rubbing his chin. "It would mean a free night-"

"James."

If there was one thing stronger than the puppy eyes, it was a wife's scolding. Whatever James was about to say came to halt. Not wanting to get on his wife's bad side, he raised his hands and stepped back.

"Please mommy."

"Please mother. Father."

Lily and Mother exchanged another look; one that caused those strange smiles to widen the longer the look went on. Lily finally broke the private eye-conversation, kneeling down before the boys.

"Sadly we need to go. We have work and Harry has school tomorrow," The hopeful smiles fell instantly. "But I promise we'll be back soon."

"You promise?" Harry asked.

"I promise."

"You promise?" Draco asked his parents.

Father nodded. His mother smiled.

"We promise."

Mother had promised again after their departure, in which the boys hugged each other long and so tight their fathers had to step in to separate them. James with his hands, Father with his cane. She promised again at dinner when he asked her again. And she had answered for the third time as she was readying him for bed.

"You promise that Harry will back?"

"I promise, Dragon."

"Soon?"

"Soon."

Another lesson Father had taught him: a true man never went back on his word. Never broke a promise. Promises were sacred duties. Contracts constructed by one that were meant to be fulfilled by the other. If you broke a promise, it had a negative effort on your character, which could affect you greatly in terms of reputation. Thankfully his parents, his father especially, were people who took great pride in character, which was why they never broke a promise. He came to learn the Potters also believed in the seriousness in keeping promises.

Because, just as the adults had said, Harry came back to the Manor the very next day. Then the day after that. Then the day after that and the day after that.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks changed into months. Months became a full year. Each moment, every second spent together, altering between the Malfoy Manor and Godric's Hollow, filled with endless games of tag and hide-and-seek in his mother's gardens, drunk from the intoxicatingly sweet floral perfume and the fun they were having. Racing each other on their toy-brooms, building forts from pillows and blankets where they camped at during sleepovers, creating armies of snowmen and snow-ball ammo in the heavy winter, having adventures in whatever scenario the glamour in his playroom decided for them whether it was pirates battling the fierce seas or outlaws in the wild west running from the deputies, huddling together under the blankets and wading through the nights and storms with the adventure stories Draco would read out loud and the songs Harry hummed or sang. It was simper activities compared to the other things they did, but Draco like them just the same. Sometimes even more. Whenever the storms got too much, the thunder and lightning too loud, Harry would sing, understanding from the tight hold Draco had on him and the tight tension of his body that he needed something else to focus on.

Nothing soothed his fears more than hearing Harry's pure, gentle voice sing songs of life under the sea, a child always being in a mother's heart, and a beauty being courted by a beast.

"Where did you learn those songs?" he asked his boy one night under their blanket tent. The lightening storm has lessened to heavy rain that patted against the windows, but Harry continued to hum his songs as he stroked his hair.

"From Disney movies. Mommy brought me a whole case of them. Then the CDs when she saw how much I liked the songs."

Draco lifted his head that was resting on Harry's chest. The movement caused Harry to stop stroking his hair, withdrawing his hand. Unsatisfied, Draco took his hand and placed it back on his hair. When Harry's fingers began to move, threading through the white-blonde strands, he asked his next question.

"What's Disney?"

Harry looked so stunned; Draco wished he had a camera to capture the moment.

"It's a Muggle-thing, isn't it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco smirked. "They're good movies, Draco. I bet you'd like them if you watched them."

Draco rolled his eyes but requested another song, which Harry was happy to oblige. He suppose he could have argued, but instead stayed quiet, enjoying the feel of Harry's fingers running through his hair and the sweet song filling the quiet air.

One of the things he would never understand about his friend was Harry's obsession with things Muggle. Then again the word obsession seemed too strong. Unlike wizards who oohed and awed over the strange inventions and manners of Muggles, Harry was already familiar with them, becoming quite the little expert. Thanks to Aunt Lily, who wanted her son to grow up with knowledge of both his parents' worlds, becoming a great wizard with the manners of a pureblood and understanding of the non-magical world.

One early, autumn morning Draco was bouncing on his heels, anxiously waiting for Uncle Severus to be done with his tea so they could go to Harry's.

His parents were needed at France, so they called Severus to watch over him. He wasn't able to, though. The same weekend they had to be in Paris, he was going with Aunt Lily to Egypt to study a new disease that's been affecting magical and non-magical beings. James said that he would look after the boys, joked that it could become a boys' only weekend. However at the very last minute he received a urgent message from Fudge that he was needed at Austria that very weekend for Auror business.

Still, Uncle James assured them the boys'only weekend would go on.

"You'll have real fun with the babysitter I got for you two." Uncle smiled at them over dinner.

The babysitter was a man that Uncle trusted above everyone else, his best friend and Harry's godfather, Sirius Black.

Draco was vaguely familiar with the name. Sirius was his mother's cousin, a very distant one. When he asked his mother for more information about the man, she refused to say anything more than the fact that Sirius was an unusual man. He was annoyed with the answer, but chose not to push it. As tight-lipped as she was on her cousin, she managed to persuade his father to let him go. She even managed to have Snape keep his complaints about Black to himself.

"Uncle Severus!"

His godfather glared at him from across the table. His mother watched on, amused.

"Narcissa."

"You know as well I as I do how impatient Draco can be."

"I have a fairly good idea."

"Uncle Severus!"

The man shot him a dark look that could peel paint from the wall. Unfortunately for Severus, just as his parents were immune to his pouting lip, he was immune to the man's glares. Huffing, Severus turned over to his parents for support. His father was too focused on his letter to offer any. His mother simply laughed.

Sighing deeply, Severus finished the last sip of his tea and rose from the table. "Come along then, brat."

 _Yes!_  Draco rolled his last bits of eggs onto his toast, shoving the breakfast into his mouth before he hopped off his seat and hugged his father goodbye.

"I expect you to behave while you are under Black's watch, Draco."

"I will." he promised.

His father didn't look convinced, but still kissed his forehead and said his goodbye. Mother escorted them over to the fireplace, preparing the Floo.

"I expect the same, Dragon," She kneeled down to look him straight in the eye. "You are to be good while you're under Sirius' care. Don't think just because you have a new sitter that you can get away with trouble."

Uncle Severus snorted, rolling his eyes. "Merlin himself could watch over them and those two would still find a way to get into trouble."

"Not true!" Draco snapped. "Not always."

His godfather and Mother traded a look before looking down at him.

"Only sometimes." Draco huffed.

"Too many sometimes," his godfather chimed in. Loudly. Annoyingly. "Especially for my taste."

Huffing, Draco pouted his lips and crossed his arms, looking away. It wasn't their fault that they craved adventure the way Uncle James' craved coffee or how his mother craved shopping. They were kids. The need for mischief and thrill was in their blood. It also wasn't their fault that their parents and Severus-especially him-didn't understand their fun.

"Even so, Dragon," Mother said. "I expect you to behave."

"Yes Mother."

She pulled him into a warm, tight hug, giving another hug she asked him to pass onto Harry. Once he got his things, he grabbed Severus' hand.

"Godric's Hollow." Severus commanded, tossing the green powder. In a flash they were gone.

Godric's Hollow never failed to take Draco's breath away. It was a mind-boggling sight compared to what he had been familiar with at the Manor. Complete polar opposites, which reminded him of how he and Harry were. Unlike the Malfoys, the Potters lived in a neighborhood as opposed to a private estate. Thankfully, there were wide, bush-filled gaps between each house, getting every house-owner a sense of privacy. Though the house was small compared to the Manor, it was still large in a modest way and beautiful in a pretty way. Fresh, green grass with a wide front-porch, a huge backyard with tall trees and a playground set the boys often used.

Aunt Lily greeted them at the fireplace, smiling warmly. Draco wasted no time rushing into her open arms.

"Hello Draco."

"Hi Aunt Lily."

"How is it possible that every time I see you, you get more and more big?" She pulled him back to study him closely. "It won't be long before you boys are off to Hogwarts."

"Where they'll doubtlessly be getting themselves into more trouble."

There was a knowing, almost-wicked gleam that sparked in Lily's bright green eyes as she stood up and turned to the other guest. "Thankfully they'll have their Potions Professor and favorite uncle to keep an eye on them."

Uncle Severus looked like he'd rather be tasked with watching over the Gryffindors. Draco tried stifling his laughter by covering his mouth. But the laughter was hard to contain, growing louder as Lily joined in.

Severus glared at them both, though the glare became to lose some of its heat as he looked at the red-haired woman. The more she laughed, the more his face lost its harsh edge. Until a small, tentative smile touched his lips.

Just as Aunt Lily was one of the few people in the world Severus found worthy enough to befriend, she was one of the few people who could bring a smile out from of the grouch.

Draco knew there was one more person who possessed the same ability, who shared his mother's talent in stirring out smiles the same way he shared her sparkling green eyes. A person whose absence was greatly noticed by him.

"Where's Harry?"

Severus rolled his eyes while Aunt Lily chuckled, used to the question. It was always the first question Draco asked after the welcoming hugs.

"He's in the backyard."

Draco nodded in thanks and speeded off, ignoring Severus' grumbling and his aunt's warning to slow down.

Another difference between the Malfoy Manor and Godric's Hollow: even though it was late in autumn, it would hard to see that at the manor, thanks to the house-elves who raked and collected the leaves. In Godric's Hollow, the house-work was left for the owners since one of them didn't believe in the use of house-elves (which was silly to Draco, but chose not to question Aunt Lily's decisions) and wanted handle all matters of the house themselves. In terms of cooking Draco couldn't argue against since his aunt was an incredible cook, but the other stuff? Tending the quests? Handling the yard-work? Cleaning the house? It seemed like too much work for a family alone, especially when two of them worked long-hours at their jobs and the last of the trio was too small and young to take on the heavy stuff. The backyard was proof how hard managing a house could be. Leaves in multiple colors from scarlet red to a dark yellow poured from the trees like an autumn shower, adding more to the scattered piles of discarded leaves on the ground, spilling onto the patio table and slide.

Harry was on the swings, pushing his legs so hard that his feet nearly touched the top. A grin split his face as a familiar blonde came into the yard. "Draco!"

Draco grinned. After one last high swing, Harry leaped off the swing, landing on his feet with a slight stumble. He opened his arms just in time to accept the giant hug the boy sprung on him. A hug so big, so great it knocked the boys off their feet and into the leave-mountain behind them, sending dozens of rumpled leaves into the air.

"Harry," Draco whined playfully in between giggles. "You got leaves in my hair."

"It's a good look," He had the nerve to smirk at him. "Makes you look like a fall rainbow."

"Oh really? Let's see how it looks on you, git," Draco rolled them over, with him on top and Harry beneath him. Because Harry was the smaller of the two, he was no match for the strength of his taller and heavier friend who refused to budge, smirking down at his struggle. He grabbed a fistful of leaves in both hands and smeared them into his friend's black hair. "You're right. It is a good look. On you at least."

Harry huffed and after moments of struggling finally admitted defeat, which Draco accepted with another smirk. He laid his head on the boy's chest, which felt as warm and nice as his bed, and sighed happily as he felt a small hand brushing through his hair.

He looked over one of the trees that was close by the swing set, where he could see the tree house Harry and his daddy have been working on since summer. It seemed kinda odd that Uncle James decided to partake in doing something so laboring and Muggle, even odder that he insisted that they use tools instead of magic to work on it. In Draco's opinion it made things slower, but his uncle had smiled, ruffled his hair, and told him that it would be worth it in the end.

"How long until you're finally done with the tree house?"

"Daddy thinks we should be done next summer. I can't wait," Harry used his elbows to prop him up. Draco stayed on his chest, but lifted his head up slightly to look at him. "You know it would be done a lot faster if you pitched in."

Draco smiled sweetly at his best friend. "Now, Harry, I think we already have a nice arrangement. You and Uncle James work on the tree house while I supervise from the comfort of the patio."

"Prat."

"Git." Draco grabbed a leave and crushed in his hands, dropping its bits onto Harry's hair.

"Boys," Lily called. "Come inside. There's someone here to see you."

The boys traded a look before Draco finally got off Harry and helped him up. They dusted themselves clean of the leaves, though it took Draco awhile to get the leaves out of Harry's thick hair.

"That must be Sirius. I can't wait for you to meet him," Harry beamed. "He's loads of fun."

 _He calls his godfather by his first name?_ How odd. Draco tried to imagine doing the same with Severus and knew a cold glare would be the least of his worries. He grabbed onto his friend's hand and followed him back inside the house.

The Floo was set, but only Aunt Lily was ready to go. The two men sitting across from each other were too preoccupied glaring, one scowling, the other smirking. One those men was Uncle Severus, using his signature, particularly-dark glares that were usually reserved for James. The other man was tall, from what Draco could see, with the handsome features of an aristocrat, his skin darkened to a light caramel color as if he had spent days out in the sun, striking grey eyes that were bright with humor and mischief, and long, fine black hair resting on his shoulders. Face alone, Draco would have thought that he was a lord or an image from a painting. His clothes told a different story. A white, puffy-sleeved shirt underneath an unbuttoned olive-green vest and chocolate-brown pants tucked into black buckled boots.

He reminded Draco of a pirate. Or a gypsy.

 _Definitely a gypsy_ , Draco decided, looking over at him. The man carried a light, care-free presence that wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Sirius!" Harry happily cried.

The smirking, gypsy-looking man pulled away from his glaring partner to open his arms, which caught his excited godson. A grin brightened the man's face as he lifted Harry over his head before settling him down on his lap, where he gave him a proper hug.

"Hey kiddo. How are you?"

"Good."

"Let me have look at you," Harry pulled back. Sirius ruffled his messy hair. "You've gotten so big."

"I'm the shortest kid in my class."

"Well then you're the tallest short person I've ever seen."

Harry laughed. Draco couldn't resist cracking a smile. Severus rolled his eyes.

"As usual, Black," he drawled the name with obvious distaste. "You and common sense can never meet."

"While you and bitterness are happily married." Sirius answered back with a biting smile.

Severus snarled. Draco was beginning to understand why Uncle James was good friends with the man. They both took great pleasure in pushing Severus' buttons.

Harry slide off Sirius' lap and went over to the other couch, climbing onto Severus to give him a warm hug. Even Severus wasn't immune to Harry's sweet smile, putting off a remark to Sirius long enough to hug the boy back and pat his head.

The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Sirius, who looked both amazed and amused. "If I had known that all it would take for the old snake to relax is a cute kiddo, I would have insisted Lily and James had him earlier."

"Sirius." Lily warned.

Severus snarled at the man. Harry laughed, and made room for Draco as he came over to join him on Severus' lap.

"You know, Snivellus, if teaching gets too boring for you, I can see a very promising career for you as furniture. The kids seem to find you comfy enough."

"At least I have a career, Black," Severus snapped. "What is it you do again? Wander aimlessly through the globe dressed in rags like a street urchin."

Sirius welcomed the taunt with a cool nod and smile. "And as you can see it, it has done wonders for me," He waved a hand over his face that was still youthful and glowing. A vast contrast to Severus whose face was tight and already lined with pre-mature wrinkles. "Sadly I can't say the same for you, Snivellus. But hey," He shrugged. "In Greece, some people find wrinkles and gray hair to be embracing."

"If it weren't for the fact there are two six year olds in my presence-"

Aunt Lily swooped in before things got ugly, announcing that it was time to leave.

"I trust you boys will be on your best behavior?" She looked at them.

"We promise." They nodded.

"And I trust the house will still be in one piece when we come back?" She kept her mother's voice as she looked up at Sirius, treating him as if he was an older little boy.

"I promise," He placed his hand over his heart. "You have my word as a Black."

"How comforting." Severus rolled his eyes.

Lily gave the boys a hug goodbye, pecking both their foreheads. Severus petted their heads, reminding them to mind themselves, and sneered at Sirius before they disappeared through the Floo.

"Are you a pirate?" Draco asked as soon as the flames died down.

Harry laughed. Sirius didn't look bothered by the question. He looked amused.

"No," he answered. "Not a pirate, though I have to admit. I admire their choice of transportation."

Harry laughed again. This time Draco joined in, firing another question. "Are you a gypsy?"

"Suppose in a way I am," the man said with an easy, one-shoulder shrug. "By fifth year all of my friends, including this one's dad," He poked Harry in the stomach, getting a laugh from him. "Knew what they wanted to do with their lives. Me? I didn't have the foggiest clue. After graduation, I packed my bags and decided to award myself for sticking it through school with a nice vacation. Started out in Spain-beautiful place by the way, highly recommend it-then I kept bouncing from place to place. Sweden, Germany, Scotland, Australia," Kneeling down he whispered to him. "For the record frog legs, even fried and coated in sauce, taste as they look."

Gross. Harry shuddered. Draco stuck out his tongue.

"Weird food aside, aimless wandering as your dear godfather puts it," Sirius rolled his eyes. "I happen to find soothing for the soul. Not only soothing, but exhilarating. Picture it, boys. Stepping out into a new city, a new country. Not knowing what you'll see or who you'll wind up meeting."

"I bet you have lots of adventures, Sirius." Harry said.

Laughing, he took his godson back onto his lap. Draco joined them, choosing to sit on the cushion instead of his lap. He did press close to Harry. "From what I hear, you two have been having a few adventures of your own. The latest one from what I remember involved a broom or two."

The boys flinched at the same time. Draco rubbed his knee, remembering the pain as if it happened yesterday.

Early in the spring, in celebration of the one-year anniversary of their son' friendship that the mothers thought should be celebrated with as much piazza and enthusiasm as any other holiday, their fathers had gotten them actual brooms as presents which were meant to be opened later. Sadly, like most children, Draco was not a patient child, especially in terms of presents. He dragged a reluctant Harry from bed late at night to the Potters' attic, where James had hidden the presents. Harry was scared, but his fears melted when they tested out their new brooms.

Their toy-brooms may have been fun, but they were no match for the actual thing. Soaring through the skies, dodging through the maze of branches, the wind kissing their faces. Draco never wanted the fun to end.

Sadly it did end. No thanks to a stupid oak tree that got in the way. Harry tried to warn Draco, screaming for him to look out, but by the time he turned around it was too late. One second he was trying to out-fly Harry, the next he was slammed face-first against the trunk, falling off the broom, tumbling down the tree, landing on his side. Hard.

They were caught. The brooms were confiscated. And he ended up with a scratched cheek and a twisted knee.

And to make matter worse, Lily had forbid them to get on brooms until they were at Hogwarts.

Draco, who was embarrassed and crying from the searing pain, flushed in anger. He cursed himself for being so stupid.

Harry could have easily used that opportunity to gloat, reminding them that he had a feeling something bad would happen. His boy, though, proved that he was a much better person than he was. Not only did Harry take the blame for what happened, but he also found a way to make him feel better with a special "spell" he learned, Boo-Boo be Gone.

The silly git. Despite his silliness, smearing a handful of powder and glitter in his hands he rubbed against Draco's knee before kissing him, the kisses then being splattered all over his face, he did manage to get him laugh again.

Remembering the end-result of that night brought a smile to Draco's face. He turned over, seeing the same smile on Harry.

"Come with me, boys," Sirius rose from the couch and reached out his hands to them."I'll show you my favorite type of broom."

Draco was expecting the new Glider 500 that had recently hit the stores, one which he had been begging his father to get for him. Or the Wingarim. Instead what greeted them in the front yard was a huge, silver and black deathtrap on wheels.

Or what was known to most as a motorcycle.

His mother would've fainted at the sight of the bike. Then forbid them from stepping foot on it, not wanting her son and his friend to be anywhere the "hazardous death machine"

"You actually compare this," Draco pointed his finger at it. "To a broom?"

The grin Sirius had on his face made Draco question the man's sanity. "Well it wouldn't be fair to compare the two. I like brooms just fine. However," He stroked the handle bar with such tenderness as if it were his child. "she certainly is a beauty."

Beauty wasn't the word Draco would use.

"And she definitely has more mileage."

Draco snorted. Harry left's brow rose questioningly.

"You two don't believe me, huh? Well, there's only one way to fix that," With a flick of his wand he took from his vest pocket and a quick murmured spell, two kid-size helmets appeared on the seat of the bike. "Perhaps a demonstration?"

The boys looked at each other, question and concern written across their faces, expressions which quickly melted as smiles emerged from the surface. Bright, excited smiles that looked almost as mad as Sirius's grin.

They grabbed the helmets and strapped themselves in, Harry in front, Draco behind, his arms wound securely around Harry's waist. Sirius hopped on. Gripping onto the handles, he kicked off the stand.

Screams of excitement mixed with fear tore from the boys' lips as the bike came alive with a roar, shooting them straight into the sky.

"Hold on, boys!" Sirius grinned.

* * *

Late at night in Egypt, a cool breeze blew into the hotel room that belonged to a red-haired woman who poured herself a glass of much-needed wine after her grueling day out on the field. A smile lifted her exhausted face as the taste of red wine hit her tongue.

"I still find it funny that it took a fall from a broom for James to finally accept what two-what is it he called us again? Two hopeless romantics?"

Giggling softly, Lily sat her glass down and stared into the laughing eyes of Narcissa that appeared fiery-orange over the fire-call. She gave a helpless shrug, as if to say what she could do. As much as she loved the man, she knew her husband could be thick-headed sometimes. "You know how men can be. They only begin to grasp the opinions of others when something traumatic happens."

"Meanwhile a woman's intuition is hardly wrong. And a mother's instinct is always right from the start."

The mothers shared a laugh.

"I honestly can't blame him though," Lily said. "If I didn't see it myself, I wouldn't have thought much of it. Also I do fancy myself a romantic."

"As do I."

"But when he saw the boys together, how scared and worried Harry was about Draco," Lily sighed with a shake of her head. "I could see the wheels turning in his head. You know he stood in Harry's doorway a whole hour after the boys had gone back to sleep watching them. When he came back down, he simply waved his hands and said that I was right. Again."

"Well, as I've said, a woman's intuition is hardly wrong." Narcissa giggled.

Lily joined her in the laughter, though it shortly ended as a thought came to her, turning her slight smile into a thoughtful frown. "Do you think it will develop soon?"

"Mmm," Narcissa thought carefully. "Hard to say. Sixteen is the usual age when one comes into their inheritance, though there have been cases of it blossoming early or late depending on the family. The blood is very strong in my mine, even though the dormant gene has been known to skip the occasional generation. It's a simple matter of waiting and seeing."

"Do you think that it will happen though? Overall?"

"Without a doubt in my mind," Narcissa answered. "You've seen how fond Draco is of Harry. It usually takes a good ten minute of scolding and pulling to finally get him to let go of the poor boy so we can leave."

"Had it their way, they'd never want to separate," They shared another laugh. "I can assure you that the feeling is mutual. Harry hardly wants to go anywhere without Draco. It's so sweet."

"That it is," Narcissa raised what looked to be a glass of wine. "To our sons."

"And to their friendship."

"And the possibility that it will amount to more in the future."

* * *

Harry rolled onto his side on the bed, emerald-green smiling into clear gray in the dead of night as he turned to his friend. "What do you think of Sirius?"

Draco frowned as he thought about the strange man.

He was a certainly a nut, there was no question about it. Even though the motorcycle was far heavier and thicker than a broom it didn't stop the man from performing tricks on it as if he were in a Quidditch tournament, nearly risking their necks more than once. It was dangerous, doubtlessly insane (a word that was too perfect for him), but Draco would be lying to himself if he said all of his screams were from fear alone.

They rode on the bike until dusk, but the fun didn't stop there. Sirius joined them in their games of tag and hide-and-seek, changing into his animagus form of a black dog, using his animal senses to track the boys, which made the games more challenging but fun. Then he gathered up the leaves into the biggest pile Draco had ever seen and tossed them in each time he caught a boy from their high jumps from the swings. Even though his hair was covered with leaves, it didn't stop Draco from going back to the swings so he could be caught and tossed back in.

"He certainly is interesting," Draco admitted. "Though a bit loony."

Harry nodded in agreement. "He can be silly sometimes, but he's really fun. He's my favorite person."

 _Favorite person?_  Draco felt something prick his chest, drawing down to his stomach. Something tight and dark that hit him like a kick. "Even more than me?"

He could hear the accusation in his voice, noticed the sudden chip in his tone. Harry had as well, from the way his eyes widened slightly. "Of course not. He's my favorite  _adult._ Besides Moony, your parents and mine and Uncle Severus. You're my favorite person ever."

The tightening sickness in his body disappeared as Harry's words sank in, melting under sweet relief. "Good," he said, wrapping his arm around the boy and bringing him closer, keeping his arm at his waist. "Because you're mine and I don't share."

Harry's brows furrowed. "That's silly, Draco. I'm not a toy. People don't belong to other people."

He may have a point there, as usual, but still…"Even so, you do to me. You're my best friend and my boy. Which means you're mine."

Harry lowered his head as he thought it over, taking his time. Draco didn't worry about the length of the thinking process. It didn't matter what Harry said. It didn't matter what anyone had to say about it. Harry was his, plain and simple.

After what felt like hours Harry lifted his head, looking up at him. "Okay. I'm yours,"

Draco smiled, pleased. He knew his best friend would see the light.

"But," Harry said. "Since you're also my best friend that means you're also my boy. Which means you're mine, too."

The smile on Draco's face broadened to a grin. He drew Harry to his chest, resting his head on his hair. "Then it's settled. I'm yours and you're mine."

"Always?"

"Always."


	3. Desolation of Tragedy

_The sound that emerged from Harry's mouth was a cross between a laugh and a scream, one that easily gave away his position as Draco spotted a familiar black mop among his mother's marigolds. A sound that went on longer and louder as he tried to run over to the base, which was the pool house, using all the speed he had in his little legs to get away from Draco._

_He was fast; there was strength in those knubby knees of his. But Draco was faster. When he was sure the distance was right, he tackled his friend to the ground, weakening his resistance with his tickling fingers._

" _No, no, no! Stop!" Harry demanded. He was laughing so much; his eyes were swimming in tears._

_Draco smirked above him. "You know what you have to do, Potter. Surrender now and your defeat shall be merciful."_

_The ever-stubborn lion refused to yield. The sly serpent refused to accept. Draco spared not one inch of skin, tickling every spot his fingers could reach. He could tell from the loud laughter and the flood of tears raining down his cheeks that his best friend was close to surrendering. He could practically hear the sweet words of defeat traveling up his throat, right on the tip of his tongue._

_Before he could hear the sweet surrender, a voice called for them from inside the manor. At the sound of the call, the smiles fell. The owners of those fallen smiles understood what it meant._

" _I wish you didn't have to go." Draco whispered._

" _Me too." Harry whispered back._

_James was the first one to notice the long, downcast faces when the boys came inside the house. "Hey now. Perk up boys."_

" _Why should we?" Draco couldn't contain the cheekiness in his voice. Harry was leaving. There was nothing worth perking up about it. Draco always hated departure time, but now it was different since they both started magical lessons with different tutors, with Harry being taught by his mother and another one of his father's friends, a Remus Lupin at Godric Hollow while Draco was being tutored by Father and Uncle Severus at the manor, taking time away from play time. He went from seeing Harry nearly everyday to now two to three times a week._

" _Because," James wrapped his arms around their shoulders and bent down slightly to whisper "I have a special day planned out for us tomorrow in Diagon Alley. At a certain Quidditch shop."_

_Quidditch shop? There would be no reason to go there. Unless-_

_Harry's mouth dropped. Draco would have called the man on his bluff if his mouth weren't too preoccupied grinning so brightly._

" _Are you serious?" Draco demanded making sure that his voice was lowered to a whisper._

" _But how?" Harry asked._

_James' reply was a sly wink._

Draco found himself breaking one of his father's rules once again. He was regretting. Again.

This time his regret wasn't just based off a few words, but for not saying enough words. Not taking enough action. He regretted that he didn't tell Uncle James how amazing he was, that he was one of the few adults in the world who didn't talk down at him like he was a stupid child but treated him like an equal. Like he was his son, too. He regretted that he didn't hug Aunt Lily extra tight and tell her that she was his favorite aunt, that he wished she was his actual aunt. He regretted that he let go of Harry too easily. That he didn't hold him tight enough, that it would've been nearly impossible to pull them apart. That he didn't keep Harry locked in the safety of his room where no harm could get to him. Where hurt and pain couldn't reach him.

Most of all he regretted ignoring that strange, almost-sickly feeling that pricked his stomach when the Floo was set and the Potters disappeared in the flames. An odd but unmistakable feeling that something bad was going to happen.

* * *

At seven, Draco's perspective of the world had changed.

He learned that life wasn't fair. It wasn't as wonderful and bright like the story-books portrayed it. It wasn't as great as he originally believed; going by his father's philosophy that life was just for those born for greatness, particularly those lucky enough to be born a Malfoy.

Except it wasn't. Life wasn't fair. It was mean. It was nasty. And it could be absolutely cruel to people. Good, innocent people who didn't deserve such unkindness.

If life was fair, then he would be allowed to eat all the sweets he wanted without being scolded for ruining his appetite.

If life was fair, then he and Harry would be learning exciting spells instead of going over the boring beginners' basics.

If life was fair, then his best friend-his sweet and caring best friend, one of the greatest people he knew, someone life should never be awful to-wouldn't be an orphan.

Shortly after the Potters had left, he was put into bed by the elves but was too anxious to fell asleep. He kept thinking about Uncle James' promise of taking them to the Quidditch shop, of finally getting actual brooms. Then, just as his mind was starting to sink into unconsciousness, a loud gasp cut through the silence like a knife, jarring him awake, coming from down below.

 _It sounds like mother_.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Draco snuck down to the parlor room, where his parents usually resided after dinner for a glass of wine. He kneeled down and pressed an ear against the door.

Though the sound was muffled, he heard more than enough for his perspective of the just world to become undone.

James, Lily dead. Harry attacked but alive.

Uncle James who hours ago promised to take them to Quidditch shop. Who had taken him under his wing and taught him the secrets and tricks to the ultimate pranks. Who turned a blind eye whenever their adventuring turned mischievous, letting them have their fun. Whose hair ruffling he always complained and grumbled about but secretly loved.

Aunt Lily who always had an extra warm hug and kiss for him. Who was stern about them learning the basics of magic first before moving forward to the advanced set but would occasionally steer them over to an advanced spell that was exciting and fun. Who called upon her two baker helpers whenever she needed extra sets of hands for her double chocolate-chip cookies or peanut-butter brownies, smiling from the across the counter as the two helpers would eventually go from pouring flour into the bowl onto each other. Sometimes watching them with a smile, other times joining in on the fun and winning each time.

Two incredible people that he loved. Two people he saw as a second pair of parents. Both gone. No longer living. Dead.

Draco didn't realize how horrible the word sounded till now. So simple, a four-letter word, yet one that carried such weight. Such finality.

And Harry…his sweet Harry. His boy. Hurt. Harmed. Attacked.

Draco gripped onto the wall, needing its support as his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, his knees buckling from the heavy drop.

Harry injured. Harry hurt. Harry  _attacked_.

Draco saw nothing but red.

Charging straight into the room, steering his parents' attention from each other to the doorway, he demanded "Where is he?"

His father was not pleased by the interruption. To say that his he was annoyed would be putting it lightly. "Care to explain to me why you are out of bed?"

His father must as well be speaking to the wall because his words fell to deaf ears. He couldn't focus on them. He couldn't focus on anything other than the fact two of the greatest people he knew were gone. Caused by a gruesome event Harry was forced to witness and barely escaped from.

One which resulted in him getting hurt. Attacked.

And alone.

" _Where is he?!_ " He nearly screamed.

"Mind the way you speak to-" His mother intervened before Father could finish his rant. She gave him a long, sharp look, one which caused him to pause and to be silent. She rose up from her chair and walked over to him, dropping down on her knees and taking his hands in hers.

"Calm yourself, Dragon," she said gently. "Try to relax."

Calm himself? Relax?  _Relax?_  How could Mother ask him to something so…idiotic? So pointless?

"How can I calm down when Harry's hurt? When Uncle James and Aunt Lily are-" He didn't dare finish that sentence. He couldn't.

Mother stroked his cheek and confirmed his fears with a slight nod of her head. Her light-blue eyes were glossed with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dragon."

Draco stared. And stared and stared. He stared until he realized too late that his cheeks were damp from the tears that were leaking from his eyes. Till his stomach plunged to the deepest parts of his body.

"How?" His voice sounded so soft, so small.

"By He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Father answered. He poured himself a full glass of bourbon that was finished before he placed the bottle back on the table.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who.

The empty spot where his stomach once was being filled by the lashes of fear creeping into his body. Deep, full-body-shaking, heart-stopping, needing-air-for-the-sake-of-his-oxygen-deprived-body fear.

You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord, an incredibly powerful wizard whose very name made Aurors quiver in fear, whose madness was as great as his power, whom his father have been fond of for his power and legacy, a legend he previously believed was nothing more than a folk-tale story meant to scare children. That very same man came to Godric's Hollow because the Potters had something that he wanted, something he desperately needed for him to pay them a visit himself instead of sending one of his followers.

They refused.

Those who dared to do such a thing hardly lived to tell the tale.

Except for one.

Harry.

"What?" Draco croaked.

"Vol-" Shivering, Mother started over, unable to say the full name. "The Dark Lord threw a curse at him, Dragon. A deadly one. Harry should have been killed but somehow he managed to survive it."

"And threw it right back at him," Draco looked from his mother to his father. Only his father wasn't looking at him. He was looking into the dancing flames of the fireplace as if they held all the answers. "To be able to do such a thing is… _incredible_." The last word came out in a breathless murmur. He poured himself another drink but didn't take a sip. He focused on its contents, a strange look flickering in his eyes that was dazed and focused at once. A strange look that harbored an unsettling spark. "The boy is more powerful than we realized."

His mother stilled. Then sucked in a breath, a very sharp breath.

It was rare to catch his mother off guard, to see her so stunned. However not as rare to hear a compliment-an actual compliment-fall from his father's lips. Draco supposed he should have looked more into it, questioned it, demanded to know more about Harry's power, but he didn't. He didn't because he didn't care about that. He only cared about his best friend.

He stayed with his parents most of the night, seated on his mother's knee, requesting cup after cup of hot chocolate and sending it back when it became ice in his hands. He was too distressed to drink, but repeatedly ordered it because he needed to do something than bloody wade through the time that dragged and dragged like a death march.

Each tick-tock from the clock moved in a pace that was slower than a snail. It went on and on until finally the sound of the door opening and closing cut through the thick, long silence.

 _Harry_. Draco jumped from his mother's lap and raced down the hall, his parents close by.

He was glad that they were near otherwise he would have fallen flat on his back if Mother hadn't caught him, stunned by what greeted them.

Severus had always had a pale complexion. It was why his black hair was such a vast contrast to his skin. It was why he preferred dark clothes. But tonight it was as if all the blood and color had been sucked dry from his face. Draco had never seen him so pale. So stunned. So haunted.

Haunted. That was the perfect word to describe the look on his face. He looked as if he had haunted by horrible, terrifying ghosts or had his mind probed and played with by Dementors.

He looked like he was seconds away from collapsing if it wasn't for the bundle he was carrying in his arms, one whose back was covered with his cloak and turned to them. The only thing it seemed that was keeping him steady.

"Severus-" He cut his mother off with a shake of his head.

Cupping the back of the boy's head, he whispered soft words into his ears, words that Draco couldn't hear. His godfather petted the boy's head, unwrapped the cloak, and set him down.

All Draco could do at the moment was get a single breath of air into his lungs as all the oxygen deflated from his body.

Unlike Severus who looked like he had gone through hell and barely survived the journey, Harry looked almost perfectly normal, standing tall and steady. Almost as if nothing had happened and it was all a big misunderstanding. Draco would have liked to think that was the case. Would have wanted that to be truth more than anything. If it weren't the blood splattered across his blue-striped pajamas that were torn. The mark on his forehead that resembled a lightning-bolt, embedded so deep and thick in his skin Draco winced inwardly. And his eyes, his eyes that were too entirely clear, that carried a single look in his eyes that drained Draco's body of warmth.

It was a look that was bare. No light, no warmth, no anything.

 _Harry_.

Draco wanted to take him into his arms and never let him go. Say that he was sorry over and over again even though he knew it wasn't enough. Knew that it could never be enough. Erase all traces that he was touched by Dark Lord. But those dead, blank eyes pinned him where he stood, taking away his ability to move or speak.

Thankfully his father wasn't suffering through the same problem, immediately calling for an house-elf.

"Dobby!"

The house-elf appeared in a flash, bowing low. "Dobby is here, sir. Dobby is ready to serve. How can Dobby-"

His mother stopped his rambling, her icy-toned voice a few degrees below zero. "Do not stand there like an imbecile. Give Harry a bath."

It finally dawned to the pitiful creature that Harry was still, eerily still. And that the crimson color splashed on his clothes wasn't merely decoration. His eyes widened in shock. "Mister Harry. Oh Mister Harry. Are you alright?"

"Does he look alright, you idiot?" His father had taken the words right out of Draco's mouth.

Dobby flinched from the harsh demand, but wasted no time. "Come Mister Harry. Dobby will take care of you. Dobby will make sure you're okay."

Dobby stuck out his hand. After a long minute of staring, Harry accepted the hand. The elf led him upstairs, keeping him close by. Draco watched them go.

Harry didn't look back once.

As soon as Harry was gone from sight, Father led the adults back to the parlor. Draco stayed close behind them, needing to hear the whole story.

It took three glasses of bourbon for Severus to open up. Three full glasses, one right after the other, quickly consumed then refilled, which would have turned to four if Mother hadn't stepped in.

"Severus," Her voice was soft but firm. "What happened?"

Severus stirred his glass even though it was empty. He then lowered it. He balled his hands into fists so tight, the knuckles were pure white. The hand holding the wine glass was clenched so tightly Draco could hear skin cracking. Yet somehow it was better off compared to the fist lying on the armrest, shaking so badly his entire arm was vibrating.

"Severus."

" _He promised_ ," The words slipped out, chipped and low, filled with great depth of shock and anger that was barely contained. Draco could sense the fury underlining his godfather's words. "He  _promised_  that they would be safe."

Someone had been entrusted with the Potters' well-being? Someone who guaranteed their safety? Someone who knew they were in danger but didn't do anything?

Draco was trembling, and it had nothing to do with the chill going through the air.

"What happened?" Father questioned.

Severus, for once in Draco's entire life, looked completely utterly lost. Shocked, yes. Haunted, yes. Angry, yes which was building in fury as each second went by. But lost, a look he had never seen before in his godfather's eyes before this night. He looked so lost, as if the one thing that had kept him strong and balanced in the world was taken away, crippling him.

"James was on the top of the stairs," he spoke the words so quietly yet they bounced around the walls as if they were loud screams. "He was gutted like a pig, bathed in his own blood. His eyes were wide open. Looking at me."

The stairs? The same stairs attached to the staircase where they ran up and down countless times during indoor tag? Where they often slide down the banister instead of taking the steps? Where they tossed their plush animals down the steps to see which one would reach the bottom first?

Draco felt sick to his stomach.

"And Lily?" Mother asked her words tight.

The glass in Severus' hand exploded in a bang, breaking into a million pieces. Draco jumped at the sound. His father lost his composure for a split second, his attentive eyes widening just a bit. A hand was placed against his mother's agape mouth as she noticed the blood running down from the man's hand, pouring from his wounds.

Severus paid no mind to any of them. He stared at the fire, looking more lost and haunted as the flames flickered and danced.

His silence spoke volumes to Draco; painting horrible scenarios of what he had seen in that house, each one more horrifying than the last.

"Do you know where I found Harry?"

He didn't wait for a response. "In his room holding his mother's hand. Staring down at her body."

Draco's heart froze to pure ice, chilling every vein and organ it could reach.

His mother swallowed, a task that looked difficult in that moment. "Harry stayed…with the body?"

"It must have been two or three hours before I finally reached the house. I found James first. Lying on his back, looking up at me with those dead eyes. Then I found Lily and Harry in the room. The door was blown right off its hinges. Lily was lying on the ground, pale, motionless.  _Dead_ ," Uncle Severus choked on the word. "And Harry was right besides her holding her hand, staring down at her body. He saw his mother die right in front of him and he stayed with the cold husk that was once her. Staring at it, holding her hand, covered in her blood. Completely still like he was dead. I almost thought that he was."

Draco couldn't bear to hear anymore. He raced up the stairs, to his wing of the house, needing to see Harry. He came to his room to find that Harry wasn't there. Stunned, he searched for Dobby. He found the house-elf at the other side of the east wing, coming from the guest bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him, a serious frown turning usual-grinning lips down. He marched straight to him.

"Where's Harry?" he demanded.

"In the guest room, Master Draco. Dobby and Misty gave Mister Harry a bath like Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa ordered. Dobby scrubbed him clean, he did. With lots of soap and bubbles, just the way you two like it-"

Draco wasn't interested in listening to the stupid creature drawl on about bath preferences. He was stuck on the fact that Harry was placed in the guest-room as opposed to his room, where he usually was and where he  _should_  be. "Why is Harry is in the guest-room instead of mine?"

Dobby winced at the sharp tone, shrinking himself as if he expected a hex to be threw at him. "Master Lucius requested it, sir. Mister Harry needs his rest. Dobby put him in the nice guest-room that's right across from Master's Draco. That way the Master and Mister can be close to each other-"

"Make yourself useful and get two hot chocolates." Draco was already running down the hall to the room.

Someone already beat him there.

Severus and Mother were already inside. Severus sitting with Harry, speaking to him in low tones as he stroked his hair. Mother standing close by the bed, smiling softly at the boy who didn't acknowledge the gesture.

A pang slit through his chest as he saw that smile. It reminded him too much of Aunt's Lily's smiles.

Severus presented a special drink to Harry. "Dreamless Draught," he said. "It will help you sleep."

Harry took the drink without question and swallowed it down, returning the glass to Severus just as his body was going limp, his eyes closing.

Mother came forward to drop a soft kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, dear."

Severus rose from the bed and accepted Mother's arm as she guided out of the room. They found Draco by the door.

"You should be in bed." Mother reminded him.

" _No_ ," He shook his head. "I should be here."

Her smile became slightly more bright and sad at the same time as she nodded, accepting his words. She kissed him on the forehead, wishing him goodnight, and took Severus away.

Draco watched them go and turned back to the bed, where the sleeping boy was lost in the sea of sweet unconsciousness. He took slow steps towards the bed and watched him sleep.

If there was one thing Dobby managed to do right, it was giving Harry a good bath, scrubbing all traces of blood and grim. Changing him out of his torn, bloody clothes, which Draco hoped were destroyed, and into a fresh set of nightwear.

Too bad soap and water couldn't scrub away the memories of what happened any more than they could make the lightening-bolt mark disappear.

Harry's chest rose and fell with each breath he took in. His face looked so peaceful, as if he were having sweet dreams. The only thing that ruined the close to perfect illusion were his hands that were balled into tight fists.

" _He saw his mother die right in front of him and he stayed with the cold husk that was once her. Staring at it, holding her hand, covered in her blood."_

His godfather's words echoed in his head, causing Draco to swallow down a hard lump. He felt bits of his ice-chilled heart breaking, his stomach churning by various pictures those words caused raced across his mind.

Harry watching his own mother die right in front of him. Harry nearly dying at the hands of her and his father's murderer. Harry left alone with the body, unable to do anything more than hold her hand and keep her company.

"… _covered in her blood."_

Draco crawled into bed, his arms entwining around Harry's waist. With his left hand, he brought each fist to his lips, dropping a light kiss on them. He pulled Harry against him and kissed his forehead, right on the lightening-bolt, not shying away from the dark magic he could sense lingering on the skin.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." He whispered.


	4. Consolation of the Heart

"Why on earth would we use lanterns, Narcissa? For god's sake, it's a funeral, not a wedding!"

"Because it's beautiful. It's meaningful."

"It's ridiculous!"

"Oh, and I suppose your vision of releasing hundreds of balloons is more touching?"

"It's simple and moving. Just the way James and Lily would have wanted it."

"It's depressing, something we already had enough as it is."

"You don't think I know that!" the man thundered. "Do I need to remind you that I'm arranging a funeral for two good friends of mine. One of whom was my best friend."

"Don't you dare act as if you're the only one suffering!"

Severus stepped in, his voice quiet as a whisper but carried the power of a scream. "I hope you two realize that your bickering over irrelevant matters isn't going to make this situation any better. It's been a hard time for us all. A very depressing time. I think no one knows that better than the boy locked upstairs in the guest room who will be tasked with burying his parents."

He heard his mother drew in a breath. Across the kitchen counter, impatiently waiting for Misty to finish icing the cookies (Merlin knows she needed to be watched; she never put the right amount of frosting), Draco pictured her holding it in for as long her lungs would permit before releasing it, looking away. He could feel the man's anger that was stirring like a powerful storm withering away as shock and grief slammed into him.

"I know," Draco heard the quiet confession. "I know."

It was as if the shock and grief were too great for one body to hold. He could feel some of it sliding off from the man's body, moving onto him.

Draco swallowed a hard lump.

After moments of long silence, Father had broken it. "If I were you, Lupin, I'd watch that tongue of yours and remember your place. Allow me to remind you the only reason you were granted entrance into our house in the first place is because Dumbledore believes that your insight is useful and some reason needed. Merlin knows why. It seems you've done nothing but cause migraines for us all."

"James was my best friend!"

Misty was finally done, handing over a plate of fresh-baked, vanilla-iced cookies. Draco didn't have the energy or the focus to sneer at her for being so slow, taking the plate out of her hands and walking back upstairs.

This was how the manor has been for the past month, heavy in silence, thick with high-stung tension that was occasionally broken by hushed conversations and heated arguments behind closed doors.

The people behind those closed-door conversations were his parents and Uncle Severus. They were often pinned against the legendary Dumbledore who came repeatedly to show his respect to the deceased and Remus Lupin.

It was hard to say which man Draco least liked. On one hand there was something about Dumbledore that made Draco cautious about the man. Something he couldn't put his finger on but knew that he didn't like. Some of it could be based on the less-than-warm looks Father and Severus had on their faces whenever he paid them a visit, or even spoke, watching him with narrowed eyes. Even Mother was careful around the headmaster, her demeanor civil enough, words cool and smiles thin. It could have to do with the ridiculously-high bar the man set Muggles on, despite the overwhelming bad that outweighed the good. Or it could be the all-knowing, penetrating look his eyes possessed, which always went right through Draco and made him feel naked. Eyes that knew too much and held many secrets.

Or it could simply be the fact that, just as his parents were cautious around him, Dumbledore returned the favor, keeping his distance. Though the man had never voiced hostility, never been standoffish per say, Draco knew that they weren't seen lightly in his eyes. He could never forget the odd look that danced across the man's eyes as he entered through the Floo, his eyes immediately searching for Harry then widening when he saw how close the boys were sitting together, their hands held in a tight hold. He looked surprised. Not only surprised but puzzled as if they were two pieces that didn't match in his eyes.

On the other hand, Lupin wasn't that different from the man, other than the fact that he was younger.

Uncle James had often spoken of a Remus, the third piece to their quartet puzzle called the Maunders. Uncle had described him as a sensible man who was a bit on the quiet side, but when he was pushed enough had a real wild streak. Draco had met the man two days after that fateful Halloween night. He had managed to get Harry out of bed and outside, alarmed by his friend's deadly-white complexion that was in desperate need of sunlight.

They were sitting by the patio, Harry resting his head on Draco's lap, Draco brushing his fingers through his hair, when noise thundered from inside the house.

"What in Merlin's name are  _you_  doing here?"

"Dobby! You goddamn useless elf! What have I said about making sure the wards were up at all times?"

An unfamiliar voice sliced through Severus and Father's protests.

" _Where is my pup?!_ "

_His pup?_

"Who do you think you are to trespass onto private property and demand-"

"Harry!"

 _What the heck_ -by the time Draco turned around, he was nearly knocked onto his back and Harry was taken away from him, being lifted into the air and crushed against the chest of a man looming over them.

"Oh my poor pup. My dear boy," He cupped the back of Harry's head and stroked his hair. "You're alright."

 _So this is Lupin_ , Draco thought, staring up at the man, annoyance flashing through him that was as hot as the pain throbbing in his lower back. He was shorter compared to Uncle James, a bit on the scrawny side but still held some muscle to him. He appeared young, around his twenties, but his face was already lined with wrinkles, hair streaked with an early touch of gray. His eyes marked with heavy, plum bags and his clothes were rumpled as if he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep for the past few days.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, relieved. "You're safe."

Draco wasn't sure if it was because of the interruption that disturbed their peace and nearly cost him a neck or the way the man held Harry, his embrace tighter and longer than the usual hug should be, that made him almost instantly dislike the man. Or it could be the fact that he believed Harry's safety was at risk here when it was the one of the safest places he could be at.

 _As if I would let anything happen to him_. Draco scowled, adding a new name to the list of people he didn't like. A name that was close to the top ten least-liked.

Then something happened.

The bright smile that lit up his face, erasing some of his worried lines, shattered into pieces as he set Harry down on the floor and took a look at him. His breath was caught in his chest as he came face to face with those dead, unflinching eyes that stunned Draco Halloween night when he first looked into them.

"What happened to him?" Lupin demanded later on that night. Mother had sent them off to the bed after dinner in which Harry had eaten everything on his plate, not acknowledging the man's questioning glances. He waited until he was sure the sound of the footsteps faded before he shot the question. Harry continued on to his room but Draco stayed behind, knowing this was a conversation worth hearing."What did you do to him?"

"I can assure you, Lupin, that we didn't do anything to him," Father's voice was pure ice. "Other than keeping him safe from prying eyes and lunatics demanding a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived."

That wasn't a lie. The next morning after Halloween, the media practically became a circus. The entire wizarding world going crazy over the news about the young child who avenged his parents' deaths, killing the man many believed was untouchable. Journalists and reporters alike were going at each other necks and using every one of their connection to find out the boy's location to get an elusive. Fans published their letters in the editorial section, some decent enough to express their sympathies while many asked for requests that ranged from autographs to strands of Harry's hair.

No one knew that Harry was at the manor with the Malfoys, a family no one would believe was associated with the Potters. That was a good thing otherwise Draco imagined the place would be flooding with fan-mail and reporters banging outside their door.

"Well something's happened," Lupin snapped. "He's-he's…not the same. He's so quiet. He's-"

"A boy who saw his father trying to save his family and failing miserably. A boy who saw his mother  _die trying to protect him_ ," Severus heavily emphasized on the words. "How do you expect him to act, Lupin? Jolly? Cheerful? Skipping around the house, whistling show tunes, acting like he doesn't have a care in the world?"

"I expect-" The rant was cut short. The man took a deep breath. Draco imagined him running a hand through his lanky hair or placing a balled fist close to his mouth. "I expect…something. Anything. Anything other than this."

Draco didn't stick around to hear what else the others had to say.

As annoying as Lupin was, he did have a point.

Anything would be have been welcomed: tears, screams, anger. That was what they were prepared for. Any of them would have been better than what they had been dealing with.

Because that was the thing: they weren't dealing with anything. Harry was well. During the first week, he stayed in bed, only leaving to use the restroom, and accepted every mix of Dreamless Draught Severus brought him without question. He'd get so quiet, lie so still Draco checked his pulse more than once to make sure he was alive. When he finally emerged from the safety of his room, the adults have been ready for tears, fiery words of anger and vengeance, and more tears. But Harry stumped them all. He didn't fuss. He didn't cry. He came down when he was called, he eat every dish that was served to him. He didn't do anything other than go through usual actives in complete silence with a look in his eyes that chilled Draco to the core every time he looked at them.

It was a look that was ran far deeper than mere grief. It was a look that similar to calmness though it was nowhere near it. It was a look that was clear as glass, the exact opposite of vengeance or hatred or anger. It was a look of utter, hollowed emptiness. Harry just looked empty. In fact, he looked worse than empty. He looked dead, as if his body managed to remain intact after the hex but his soul followed his parents to the afterlife.

He hadn't spoken a word since Severus brought him to the manor that night. Not to his parents. Not to Severus. Not to Lupin. Not to the Aurors or Dumbledore. Not even to Draco. He became mute. Draco tried everything he could think of to get a single word, a phase, or even a sound out of him.

Some nights he'd do just that, calling his name over and over or singing those Disney songs they loved in an attempt to get a sound from him. Most nights he'd follow Harry into the guestroom, join him in the bed, and hold him tight as if he could disappear any second.

"Harry," he'd sometimes say, his voice low as a whisper "Please say something. Anything."

His plead would never get a response, and every night his heart would break more and more, piece by piece. He didn't think that it could get any worse, but it did.

After another night of silence and holding, Draco was awakened from his deep coma-like sleep by a loud scream that reached them all to the way to the room.

" _What?!_ "

 _What the hell?_  Draco grunted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

The conversation that ignited that loud scream continued on but Draco couldn't hear anything else. Curious, he snuck a peek over at Harry who slept on, undisturbed. He untangled his arms from the boy's waist and climbed off the bed, walking quietly into the parlor room.

He used the spare couch by the door as his camouflage, ducking low and keeping a sharp ear.

He saw Severus sitting on the couch with Mother. Father in his chair, hand clutched around his cane, eyes drawn to the fireplace. Lupin faced against two Aurors with Dumbledore in between them, as if to prevent a bloodbath from occurring.

"Remus," Dumbledore said, speaking gently. "You need to calm down."

" _Calm down?_ " the man repeated, stunned. "Calm down? You expect me to calm down after hearing what you have to say. That-that…"

Whatever he was told was far too great for him to repeat.

Dumbledore looked like he would've patted the man's shoulder, but then decided against it, keeping his distance. "I know it's seems unbelievable-"

"It's not unbelievable, Professor. It's nonsense. A lie! It can't be true."

Draco arched his neck to get a better view, his head spinning with questions. What was unbelievable? What was nonsense? What did Lupin think was a lie?

"Evidence suggests-" one of the Aurors began, trying to be sympathetic.

"Evidence can be tampered with," Lupin argued. "And wrong."

"Not this time," the other Auror said. Unlike his partner, he wasn't up for being sympathetic. "We ran it through every angle. Went over every scenario. Each one led to the same conclusion."

_What conclusion?_

Dumbledore took over. "Remus," he said. "I know it's hard to believe. I can understand that it must be extremely hard to digest and that it must be a terrible blow to you. However I'm afraid that it's the truth. Two people were entrusted with the Potters' safety. Two people who knew about the wards and what the Dark Lord was after."

Anticipation built in his stomach. The bad, nerve-wrecking anticipation that came on when something bad was about to happen.

"One was me,"

He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"The other was a person that they believed was on their side. Someone James trusted with his life."

He  _really_  didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Sirius Black."

_No._

Draco gripped onto the chair, needing something to keep him steady as the wind was knocked out of him, caused by the those two words that made up a familiar name.

Sirius Black, as in Mother's odd cousin, as in Uncle James' best friend, as in Harry's  _godfather_. The man with the odd smile that was half-mad, half-brilliant. The man who let them ride on his motorcycle the first night he babysat them. The man who called Harry kiddo, and was one of Harry's favorite people in the world.

He was the one who sold the Potters out to Voldemort.

He was the one who betrayed his best friends.

He was the reason why Harry no longer smiled, no longer talked. Why he was now an orphan.

Rage built in Draco, searing hot rage that fired in his body, pulsing through his veins. He wanted to strangle him, the traitor. He wanted to strangle him with his bare hands.

"The facts speaks for themselves," the first Auror said. "The night the Potters were attacked, Black fleed the country. We searched Grimmauld place from top to bottom. A duffle bag turned up missing, along with a few clothes and some money taken from the family vault. Oblivated his house-elf before he left. He's gone."

Forget strangling him. Draco wanted to feed him to the wild animals the game-keeper kept caged at Hogwarts. Bind him and cast multiple Crucios at him until he understood even half of what he put Harry through.

"I don't believe it," Lupin was trying to hold onto that belief, desperately. From the weak stain of his voice, Draco could sense that belief waning. "Sirius wouldn't. He  _couldn't._  He was our friend. He loved James like a brother. He cared about Lily. He cared about Harry. He would never."

The sympathetic Auror looked like he wanted to say more, but something stopped him. Something that drew his attention to the front of the room, shocking him enough that he tapped his partner's shoulder and pointed towards it.

His father's eyes followed that finger, as did the other adults. Mother sucked in a breath. Uncle Severus' lips thinned. Remus' mouth dropped.

They were all looking at his direction but they weren't focusing on him.

Draco wondered what it was.

The answer was right behind him, standing in the doorway, hearing every word.

"Harry."

He fled from the room before Lupin or Mother could come to him. Before Draco could get himself off the floor.

"Bravo Lupin." His father drawled, flat and sarcastic. Draco didn't stick around to hear the rest. He ran after his friend.

The bedroom door was slammed right at his face.

He tried for the handle but it was sealed. Stunned, he banged against the door.

"Harry! Harry!" he cried. "Open the door!"

He didn't hear a sound from inside, so he didn't know whether Harry was still awake or if he went back to bed. All he knew was that things had gone from bad to worse, and that he needed to fix it. So he continued with the door, banging harder, pleading louder. He banged and banged until his hands were numb and red. He banged until his legs gave out and he was down on his knees. He banged until his words died into silence and his cheeks were damp with tears.

He banged until he was slumped onto the floor, back pressed against the door, his weary hands wound around his propped-up knees.

He felt a cool, slender hand cupping his face, wiping away his tears. He smelt his mother's rich floral perfume as she kneeled down, her hand moving from his cheek to his hair, stroking it gently.

"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay, Dragon."

No, it wasn't. Nothing about this was okay. Black shouldn't have gotten away. Harry shouldn't be miserable. Life shouldn't be this mean. He shouldn't be crying.

He hated himself for crying, for being so weak. His best friend was hurting. More than hurting. He lost his parents, his home, his godfather that was the cause (one of the causes) to his misery. And there was nothing Draco could do about it. That was why he was crying. His best friend was hurting, and there was nothing he could do to make it better, which made feel so useless. Which made him cry harder.

Mother easily scooped him from the ground, onto her lap, rocking him like she used to when he was younger. She waited until his sobbing had quieted before speaking. "Try to put yourself in his shoes, Dragon. Imagine being in his position."

He sometimes did. Walking around his parents' lifeless bodies. The house being painted with their blood. He could never finish the thought.

She warned him that trauma was the worst type of the pain, the type that was hard to recover from. It held a powerful grip on people that was hard to break due to the memories that were hard to shake. It changed people. It broke them. It was already painful enough for a child to know that his parents were gone. But knowing your father gave it his all to protect his family that sadly wasn't enough? Watching your mother fall in front of you and being left alone with her body? Surviving through the very thing that killed them both and feeling that deep down you shouldn't be here without them? There was no word to describe something so horrendous. So painful.

"I…" His throat was tight with tears. His body was shaking. "I don't know what to do."

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, Dragon," she said. "The best thing we can do for Harry is give him time. And the best thing you can do for him is simply be there for him."

Draco has been doing that, though, since Halloween night: being there for him. He was constantly by Harry's side, refusing to leave him alone for a minute, but it wasn't enough.

The funeral was held at Aunt Lily's favorite church during the first week of December. Harry's cool, robotic demeanor didn't wane. Chin held high, eyes straight ahead, he didn't break as he sat in the front pew, the only one brave enough to sit so close to the caskets while his Muggle family was too scared to go near it. He didn't break down once during the service, attentive and calm through the speeches and memories that brought a majority of the mourners to tears. He didn't break down as the caskets were lowered deep underground and he tossed fistful of earth into each grave. He didn't break as people stepped forward to pay their respects, immune to their tears and unresponsive to their hugs.

His stoic expression didn't crack for a moment when his nuisance of a family came forward to talk to him.

"Apparently this Dumbledore thinks that you should live with us. Something about blood wards, which is suppose to protect you." His aunt said. She was a nasty-looking, uptight woman with a high, unpleasant voice to match her personality.

_What?!_

After barely escaping from the Dark Lord's wrath, Dumbledore thought that the safest place for Harry to be was with Muggles? And not just any Muggles, but ones of the worst sort. Ones that were rude and snotty, and made it clear that they found magic and those who did it sickening and unnatural.

For dear Merlin's sake, the woman looked like she'd rather face the Dark Lord herself than become her nephew's guardian.

She at least was attempting to look neutral about it. Her fat oaf of a husband didn't bother hiding his real feelings over the matter; his face flushed bright red in anger. Their son was no better.

"He's not staying in my room!" The brat shrilled. For his sake, he better be thanking his lucky stars that Draco didn't have a wand on him otherwise he'd turn the boy into a mouse, then give him away to Slyther as a chew toy.

Draco remembered the one time the Dursleys had stopped by Godric's Hollow while his family was over. He and Harry were playing on the swings until the fat lump charged towards them, pushing Harry off the swing, knocking him into the mud pile. He was about to burst into laughter till Draco picked up a heavy rock and smacked it against the boy's fat head, delighted by the nasty bruise the rock imprinted.

" _This time it's a rock," he warned him, helping Harry get back on his feet and keeping him close. "Next time it will be hex if you touch, tease, or even breathe on Harry again."_

Remembering that day, Draco wished he had that rock. Or a wand. Anything that would get the swine and his family out of their sight and their lives.

"Of course not, sweetheart," The woman ruffled the boy's limp hair with a smile, paying no mind to her sister's motherless son who needed comfort. Comfort she was wasting on the arse. "He'll stay in the cupboard."

 _Like hell he is_ , Draco scowled.

As if the boy could feel the sharp blade of Draco's dagger-edged glares, the pig looked over. His scowl deepened.

"Freak." he mouthed.

 _I'll show you a freak, pig._ Fists clenched, Draco was ready to make his move. Two steps in, appearing in a flash of gray light, someone had taken care of the problem for him. A pink, curly pigtail poked a hole through the boy's pants.

How fitting.

"Mom!" the boy screamed, horrified.

The aunt looked just as horrified, chasing after her "darling" boy as he shrieked about the place, her whale husband hot on their heels.

Draco turned around where the light had come from. Uncle Severus moved his eyes over from the shrieking Muggles to him, nodding his head once before following his father who rolled his eyes.

His lips almost lifted into a smile. One that fell too quickly as a familiar pair of green, dead eyes turned to him.

The condolences and mourning continued at the wake Lupin and his mother held for the deceased. During sometime of the 'party', Harry disappeared. Any other person would have panicked, but then again that person didn't know Harry the way Draco did. He knew exactly where Harry was at. He used the Floo in the upstairs library to transport him to Godric's Hollow.

A chill swept through him as he stood in front of the house that was once lit with warmth and laughter that was now dead and cold as freezing winter night. The wards were shattered, which made sense seeing as though there was no longer a family to protect. He walked to the backyard, looking up at the tree house. It had taken Harry and his dad two whole summers to finally finish it, built entirely from hammers and nails instead of magic. It wasn't a speculator house. Compared to the forts and miniature houses his parents had done for him, Harry's tree-house looked so plain it was pathetic. But he knew how meant the house meant to Harry, especially now.

It was one of the few things he had left of his father.

Letting out a soft breath, Draco climbed.

He found Harry curled in a tight ball, back pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees. His bleak eyes were fixed on the window, studying the night-sky. His eyes stayed fixed on the window even as Draco stepped inside.

"Harry." Nothing. No response. Draco was about to call his name again until the boy slowly turned over to him, rewarding Draco with those empty eyes that pierced right through him.

Those eyes were awful as ever, filled with such emptiness it was hard to look into them and not drown in the void that threatened to swallow him whole. However as awful as those eyes were, Draco discovered there was something far worse: looking into them while streams of tears ran down Harry's face.

Each tear that fell was like a sharp punch that hit Draco in the gut.

Without hesitation he rushed over to his friend, pulling him against his chest. He held onto him for dear life, not caring that his clothes were suffering from the tears that started off as lifeless, then grew to gushes as Harry's calm demeanor shattered into hard weeping, his small body shaking, fists clenching Draco's robes like they were his life-line. The only thing that could keep him from falling into the abyss of no return.

Draco decided right then that his mother was wrong. Time didn't heal. It only made things worse. He held onto Harry tight, wishing he could do something more. But what? In his family, the best solution for tears was gifts. Whenever he cried, his mother would buy him a new toy. And if that didn't work, then she'd give him a big hug and tell him that all will be well. He knew there was no toy amazing enough to fill in the hold Harry's parents left behind. Aunt Lily was no longer alive to hug her son and tell him that things would be alright.

_What can I do?_

A memory ran through his mind. Of him and Harry acting like snakes, laughing before Draco kissed him. The kiss was a surprise for them both, but it was one that Harry didn't seem to mind, laughing just the same when they pulled apart.

Draco thought it over for a second or two before he kissed Harry soundly on the lips. Just like before, Harry's body stilled from the touch. Just like before, Draco feared for his reaction, wondering if he pushed his boundaries. The first time they had done it, it was because their game had gone in a different direction. Now, there was no snake. This was no game. Would Harry be even more upset?

Harry's eyes were closed when Draco slowly pulled back. He took his time opening them, as if the action alone required all of his body's energy. His eyes still held tears, still were grief-stricken, but they weren't as broken.

"I see them," he confessed in a whisper so low, Draco had to move closer to hear him. "Mum and Dad. I keep hearing my dad screaming at my mom to take me away, to keep me safe. I keep hearing her say to me 'You are so loved, Harry' before she dies. That picture of her dying has been playing in my head over and over. And I can't stop it. I don't know how to make it stop."

 _Oh Harry_. Draco felt his heart crumbling, eyes stinging with tears.

"My parents are dead. They're dead. Dumbledore says that my aunt and uncle are my only living relatives, so I have to live with them. Said that they can protect me. My aunt said that just because I live with them doesn't make us family. It just means I'm an unwanted burden. I'm all alone." At the last word, the tears Harry had been trying to hold broke free of his control and ran down his cheeks. The first set of words Harry had said in a month since his parents' death, and it made him cry.

Draco wanted nothing more than to grab a wand and hex the slimes into obviation for saying such a thing to his best friend. How could the old goat possibly think that giving Harry to them was the right thing to do? "I don't give an  _arse_  what Dumbledore has to say. Those Muggles couldn't protect an egg from cracking. You're my best friend. You're practically a Malfoy. You're staying with us. Father will make sure of it."

Harry looked up at him. Draco brushed and kissed away every tear that fell. He could see the teary waterfall was slowly letting up.

Smiling gently at the boy, Draco kissed his forehead. "Silly git. You can never be alone. Not when you have me," Kissing his forehead once more, he reminded the smaller boy of the agreement they made. "I'm yours and you're mine. Nothing can and never will separate us. Not Dumbledore. Not the Dark Lord. No one. Especially not some stupid Muggles."

For the first time in weeks the slightest hint of a smile curled Harry's lips. "I guess I never really thought of it like that. I guess that's why I have you, Draco."

"Yes, yes it is," Draco pulled Harry against him. Harry rested his head in the nape of Draco's neck, and Draco placed his cheek on top of his head. "That, and because I'm completely awesome."

He had no idea how much he missed hearing Harry's laughter until he was finally graced by the sound. It was soft, practically a whisper. Nevertheless it was beautiful all the time.


	5. Rulings and Reminding

Truth be told, as odd it was, Draco honestly didn't want to go back. Though the house was smaller than any room he was used to, though winter was especially freezing at night, he didn't want to go back. His best friend had finally broken free of his stoic trance, allowing Draco in. He had finally spoken to him, and it amazed Draco how one could a miss hearing a sound after a long period of time. Also he liked the coziness of the small house and the warmth Harry's body provided for him.

He felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

"Is it bad that I don't want us to leave?" he asked.

Harry shook his head that was lying on his chest. "No, not really. When Daddy and I finished building the house, I wanted to live up here forever."

A pang slit through Draco's heart, darkening the peaceful moment. He still trouble believing that Uncle James and Aunt Lily were gone. Actually gone.

The gap in his heart widened as he realized how selfish he was being. And stupid.

Here he was wishing that they could stay up in the tree house that was feet away from the house where Harry's parents were killed. Where he was nearly killed.

"You know what?" Draco said. "You and me will live in our own house. One that's just as big as the manor. It could even be up on a tree."

Harry looked up at him questioningly. "Really?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "A Malfoy never goes back on his word."

Harry's mouth quirked into a smile. However it disappeared as a familiar voice called their names. Draco looked out the window.

Severus was down below and waited patiently for them to join him on the ground. For once his scowl was absent from his face, but his presence was still intimidating.

"From where you stand at the moment, Draco," he told his godson. "It would amaze me if you ever see the light of day again by the time your father is done with you."

Draco winced inwardly. That was one meeting he wasn't looking forward to.

Severus' dark eyes glanced over at Harry, softening just a bit. "Though given current circumstances, I doubt he'll be too harsh with you."

He squeezed Harry's hand. He got no reply. Confused, he turned over to Harry, fearing the zombie had returned.

Harry's eyes thankfully were clear, but they weren't focused on him. They were focused on the house.

"Severus, before we leave can I get a few things from the house?"

Severus looked like he'd refused, but this was the first time in over a month Harry was speaking. Draco knew he was worried about the boy as much as he was. With a nod, he gave in but urged him to be quick.

Draco was determined to stay by his side despite the chills that ran up and down his spine when they entered through the back-way. The silence was heavy like a scream, draped over the house and every room like a cloak.

The chills didn't bother Harry as he walked up the stairs, already knowing what he'll need. Draco followed closely behind. His eyes glanced down at the steps more than once, his stomach churning.

" _James was on top of the stairs. He was gutted like a pig, bathed in his own blood."_

A bout of nausea shoot through his stomach. Draco clamped his mouth to keep it in.

"Draco," In an instant, his godfather was beside him, his hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Nausea churning, he sealed his lips and nodded his head. This wasn't about him. This was about Harry.

Harry went to his room. Draco nearly staggered back. Uncle Severus held back-a lot. Draco barely recognized the room. Every window was cracked and shattered, the door was thrown off its hinges and into the closet. Blood was splashed in drops and streaks. His eyes paid close attention to the puddle of cracked blood that was in the middle of the room.

" _Lily was lying in the middle of the room, pale, motionless. Dead. And Harry was right beside her holding her hand, staring down at the body….completely covered in her blood."_

The nausea was hard to swallow down this time but Draco found himself to do so.

Harry calmly moved his way over to his closet and nodded his head in thanks to Severus, who used his magic to move the door out of the way. He pulled some clothes off the hangers-shirts, jeans, a few robes-and stuffed them into a red duffle bag, along with framed family pictures he pulled from his shelves, some of his favorite books. For toys, overlooking the figures and models, he only picked two. His father's old toy-broom that he passed onto him, and Leo, a stuffed lion with soft fur and bright green eyes Aunt Lily customized to match Harry's. Harry had him since he was a baby.

He brought Leo against his chest and hugged him tight, almost as if he was hugging his mom again. His eyes were drawn to the dry blood on the floor, where he saw his mother die.

"Harry," he called out to him. "Are you okay?"

As soon as the question escaped his lips, he cursed himself for his stupidity.

Perhaps, though, it wasn't as stupid as he thought, because Harry answered. "No. I'm not. But I will be."

Smiling gently at him, Draco took his hand, relieved by the small smile and gentle squeeze he got in return.

Severus took his free hand, warned him to hold on, and took them back to the manor.

To his relief, Father wasn't as angry as he feared. He gotten off with a severe warning that he wouldn't be quite as forgiving next time. As for Mother, she scolded them both for making them worry, but given them pecks on the foreheads and warm hugs.

"Draco?" Harry asked after they were sent off to bed.

"Yes."

"Do you," Harry bit his lip. "Do you think we can go back to your room?"

It took everything Draco had to keep his lips to a smile instead of the bright grin those words caused. He couldn't help noticing how nice it felt to be back in his bed. Or how nice it felt to have Harry by his side, snuggled against him.

It was a slow progress but everyday in small ways and large his best friend was coming back to him. There were times when he'd fall into sudden silence, which sometimes lasted minutes, sometimes lasted longer. There were times when he'd leave the room to be alone with his thoughts. But he was talking again. He was answering questions, asking some of his own, and participating. Best of all, if those silent moments were too much for him, he'd seek Draco out, and he was more than happy to distract his friend from those dark moments or wade it out with him.

There was only one sour note to Harry's recovery: Dumbledore's visits have increased. Now that Harry was speaking again, the headmaster questioned him more about what happened that night, questioned him on his progress, and talked more about possible living arrangements. Though the last one was more so discussed with the adults than with Harry.

"We won't officially know anything till we go to the hearing," he said. "However I think the Dursleys would be a good match. They are the only family he has left."

"With all due respect, Headmaster," Lupin said. "Family doesn't only apply to blood."

Behind the closed door, where he and Harry listened in on the conversation, Draco nearly smiled. It seemed Lupin wasn't as annoying as he thought.

"Of course, of course. I agree with you, Remus. But their blood is what will help protect Harry. Plus, it could be worked into an advantage. No one would think that the Boy-Who-Lived is living in the muggle-world. He'll be perfectly safe."

"I very much doubt that." Father said.

"And why might that be?"

"In order for blood-wards to work there must be love and care from both sides. And given from what I've seen, there is no love lost between Harry and his family."

He imagined that Dumbledore turned to Remus who fell silent, then over to Severus, possibly expecting backup from his fellow co-worker.

"The relationship between Lily and her sister has been estranged. For years. Petunia grew up despising magic, and wanted nothing to do with her sister or her nephew. Believed it was an act against nature and those who are gifted abominations."

Father snorted, muttering a comment so low Draco couldn't hear it.

"And you, Remus?" Dumbledore asked. "You don't think Petunia would be willing to take in her nephew?"

"It would seem, Professor, that Snape and I are on the same page. I didn't know the Durselys well. But James had written to me, and in his letters whenever they were mentioned he made it clear that they were not close."

"I see."

"Gentlemen," Mother said. Draco imagined her taking a sip of her tea and setting the cup down on the saucer. He knew he guessed right when he heard the soft tink of china. "You mustn't forget that a will was done. It's a simple matter of waiting to find out."

"You're not going with those Muggles." Draco whispered to Harry later on that night.

Harry bit his lip; a sign that he was nervous. "Do you really think Dumbledore will make me live with them?"

They were close as they could be on the bed, but Draco still leaned in closer till they were chest to chest. "He can't do anything until we've gone to the hearing. And can't do anything unless they were picked." Which he doubted.

"I don't know who Mommy picked," Harry whispered. "She never really talked about it. I guess because we all thought if something happened to them, then I would go to…"

His father's first choice.

Sirius Black.

It had been a month since the truth of Black's involvement in the murder was revealed. Even though Harry was talking again, that was the one subject he refused to say a word about. Anytime Black was brought up, Harry would either fall into silence or leave the room altogether.

Draco had often remembered that Uncle James always said that there was no man he trusted more. He wondered what his uncle would say now if he knew the truth.

He ran his hand through Harry's hair. Harry closed his eyes. "I wasn't lying, you know."

"About what?" One green eye popped open.

"About you staying with us. Father will make sure of it. He can make it happen."

"What if Dumbledore finds a way around it?" Harry asked. "He is a powerful wizard."

Draco scoffed with an eye-roll. Harry frowned.

"Come on, Draco. Even you have to admit it."

He'd acknowledge it, but he would never say it out loud. Dumbledore may be strong in terms of magic, but no one was stronger in terms of connection and influence like Father.

"Then we can live in our house. In a place so far away, no one would find us. Where we can have all the fun we want. Like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys."

Harry's frown changed into a small smile. "I knew you'd like those Disney movies."

"Shut up, Potter." He murmured.

Despite his annoyance, he was glad to see the smile broadened.

According to Harry, Muggles typically go to special offices to get wills read. It wasn't that much different compared to how wizards handled their wills, other than the fact wills and other valuables were held at Gringotts. With its tight-wad goblins who were very strict when it came to identification, high security that ranged from magical signatures to dragon-guards, it was the best place.

They were escorted into a private room by one of the goblins who seemed to recognize Harry. "Mr. Potter."

"Hello Mr. Gar."

"It seems that your mother's sister will be quite please," he said, "Your mother set aside a small sum of money to help her and her family. For Remus Lupin, James leaves behind a few artifacts from the Potter family library he feels the man would very interested in," He turned over to the next page. "Being the sole heir to the deceased, you, Mr. Potter, are entitled to everything else your parents left behind." He listed out the property that were given to Harry, including both the house in Godric's Hollow and James' family home, the vast money and valuables in the family vault, his father's mother's library that carried books and magical artifacts.

All which were impressive and meant that Harry would never have to worry about money, but Draco was impatient for the creature to get onto the good part.

"Your parents set aside a large sum that should have you living comfortably until your sixteenth birthday, which is when you'll be able to have full access to your inheritance."

Yes, yes, yes. They already knew that.

"Until then, your financial needs as well as the essentials will be oversee by your guardian."

Finally, they were getting to the good part.

"As it is custom, in the event of passing, parents choose two adults to watch over and care for the child or children. Due to circumstance, James Potter' choice, Sirius Black, who has been named as the godfather, was denied."

Obviously.

"However he wasn't the only guardian. It seems Lily Potter chosen another, along with a side-note."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Narcissa Black-Malfoy," he announced. "It would seem that Mrs. Potter believed that you would be better-suited to care for her son, naming you as his godmother. The ministry seems to think so as well because they approved the request. From this moment on you are Harry James Potter's appointed guardian."

_Yes!_

Mother looked speechless, but in a good way, smiling. Father's face was cool, but his lip curled by the corner. Severus looked pleased.

The only one who was stunned-and not in the good way-was Dumbledore whose mouth nearly dropped.

 _Take that, old goat_. A grin stretched across his face as he pulled Harry into a big hug. _Thank you, Aunt Lily_. Even from beyond the grave, she still looked out for them.

"Well," Dumbledore said after a shocking minute. "This is certainly surprising."

"I don't see why it should be, Professor," Father kept himself cool and indifferent, but Draco saw victory glinting in his eyes, a feeling he himself was basking in. "Lily Potter was a smart woman, one who obviously wanted the best for her son. I can assure you there is no better."

 _So ha_. Draco threw a smirk in the old man's direction.

Dumbledore frowned. "It just seems odd to me."

The temperature in the room slowly decreased the higher Father's brow rose.

"And why may I ask would that be?"

"You've always been a smart student, Lucius, if not arrogant. I believe you know the answer."

The room was cold as winter's night as the two looked at each other, their eyes anything but warm. Or pleasant. For once the headmaster's eyes weren't sparkling, which Draco didn't know whether he should be happy about or worried.

"I believe, _Professor_ , that it simply comes down to a matter of opinion." Father's tone was icy.

Uh-oh.

The boys looked at each other.

 _Should we…?_ Harry nodded towards the back door.

 _Not yet._ Draco shook his head.

"Harry?" He looked over from Draco to the old man who called his name. "Do you wish to live at the manor? Would you feel comfortable there?"

The question might have been asked innocently, but it stung Draco all the same like an insult.

His parents were just as stunned. Just as offended. Mother's lips that seconds ago were smiling were drawn into a tight line. Ice completely frosted over Father's eyes.

"You're assuming, Professor," Severus said; the first words he had spoken since the hearing. "that Harry's life will be in jeopardy?"

His lips pursed. "Not in so many words."

 _Just enough_ , Draco scowled.

"Yet you believe his well-being will be handled perfectly by Muggles whom despise magic?"

The Headmaster didn't give a response to the comment, but repeated his question to Harry, bringing Lupin into the conversation. "He was close to both your parents. It's odd that he wasn't picked."

"Moony-I mean, Uncle Remus," Harry corrected himself. "Travels a lot, sir. And he has a condition."

Condition? The man seemed healthy, if not a bit hot-headed.

Dumbledore seemed to think the same thing, asking "What type of condition?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, sir. He said he'd tell me when I'm older. And said that whoever my parents decided was fine with him. He trusts their judgment."

Lupin rose himself slightly higher in Draco's favor.

"I see," Dumbledore mused, then turned to the goblin. "You mentioned that there was a side-note regarding the mother's choice. What was it?"

"Narcissa Black-Malfoy was chosen as the boy's godmother and guardian. However in the will Lily Potter requested that Severus Snape," the goblin looked over at the man. "also be part of his life. As joint-guardianship of some sorts with the Malfoys."

Draco didn't think the news could be any better, but it did.

"I see," Dumbledore turned over to the Potions master, who stared back at him, his facial expression unreadable, then over to the boys. "Would you boys mind stepping outside while we talk for a bit?"

"Why?" Draco snapped. Harry elbowed him in the arm.

He smiled. It was the type of smile he had seen adults used when they were dealing with a difficult child. The type of smile Draco hated. "Simply a chat. Boring adult stuff. Nothing that would interest you."

Draco very much doubted that. He would've refused, but when Father gestured toward the door he knew he had to obey.

As soon as the boys were out of the room, the door shut behind them, sealed with a lock and silence spell.

 _Arse_ , Draco thought.

As if his mind was read, Harry punched him in the arm. The force wasn't hard enough to leave him a bruise, but enough to bring him back to reality.

"You're spacing." Harry said.

"I was thinking," He rubbed his arm, which felt a bit tender. "And you didn't have to hit me that hard."

"I didn't."

"Tell that to my bruised arm."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco smirked.

Soon enough the door was opened and Dumbledore stepped out, his eyes back to their unusual, unsettling twinkle.

"Good luck, my boy." he said to Harry.

"Thank you, sir." Harry nodded. Draco stayed quiet. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and not say something insulting.

He nodded and took his leave. The boys entered inside the room. The adults' faces were expressionless, which meant the conversation could have gone in any direction. His mother's cool demeanor eased slightly as a small smile turned her face and her arms opened. They wasted no time running into them, hugging her as well as each other.

"Yes, yes, yes," Father said. As indifferent as he looked, Draco knew his father was pleased. "I'm glad that we were able to work things out. Harry?"

"Yes Uncle Lucius?"

"Now that you will be living with us, you will be expected to act accordingly. Though you'll still be a Potter, from this moment forward you shall act with the high standards and class of a Malfoy," Father placed his hand under his chin, studying the boy. "Perhaps you should be referred to as Potter-Malfoy."

Potter-Malfoy. Harry Potter-Malfoy. Draco definitely liked the sound of that.

Harry did too, judging by the big grin on his face. He looked like he would have hugged Father, too, but since Father wasn't the hugging type he settled with a smile and a nod. In return, he got a brief smile.

* * *

Harry's presence changed life at manor dramatically, making things interesting but better.

Father was pleased at having another mind to teach and mold into a pureblood gentleman. He was already taken in by the boy's intelligence, which showed during lessons. Sometimes, when the topic fell under the Muggle category, Harry would turn the lesson into a debate. Father recited the cold-truth information he knew from his own sightings and books. Harry argued with facts and experiences. Father was a man that was annoyed when his ideas were questioned, and although there were times he was peeved with his new pupil, he did seem to appreciate the effort the boy put into his research to back up his claims.

Mother was enthusiastic. She'd confessed to Draco once that she wished she had more children. Harry became that second child to her. She indulged him before with treats and made sure to pick up things for him when she was shopping for Draco, but now she officially, absolutely spoiled him. The first thing she did when they returned to the manor, after seeing how much Harry had brought from his house, was open her catalogs and call her favorite stores. Within an hour, hundreds of bags popped into the living room. She bought him all types of clothing from formal-wear, casual-wear, nightwear, Muggle clothing, along with toys and books.

She even set Harry up for etiquette classes. Harry was already familiar with the basics because of his father. His parents, though, felt he needed to learn more. Two times a week, after lessons with Father and Severus, he'd meet Mother in the library for her lessons. She taught him everything that was needed to know. How to dress, how to make small talk, how to play the piano, various languages such as French and Italian and Latin, posture and table manners.

He'd never forget the time Harry learned that lesson first-hand at one of Mother's favorite restaurants in Paris. When the food had been brought in, Harry eagerly dove into his dish.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry's mouth was already filled with roasted duck so the answer had to wait a few moments as he swallowed down the food and wiped his face with a napkin. "Um, eating, Aunt Cissa."

Draco would've offered aid to his friend if he didn't find this situation amusing, feeling giggles trickling his throat.

"Sit up straight." Father ordered. Harry immediately complied, fixing his posture.

Draco sealed his lips in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"I can see that, dear," Mother said. "However would you mind explaining to me why you're using your salad fork to eat your duck?"

"Um," Harry glanced down at his plate, seeing the multiple silverware placed at either side, then over to the small fork held in his hand. "Does it matter?"

Mother looked scandalized. Draco could feel his throat rumbling from laughter that was building inside him.

"Perhaps not in the muggle-world," Father said. "But in the wizarding world, especially for purebloods, it most certainly does."

Draco couldn't hold it any more. The laughter burst out of him in a giggling explosion, nearly knocking him off from his seat. It didn't stop even when his ankle throbbed in pain from the kick Harry delivered underneath the table.

Uncle Severus certainly came to the manor more often. Sometimes for lessons, such as teaching them more on Potions or demonstrating defensive spells against dark magic. Sometimes for pleasantries. Uncle was a private man who rarely voiced his thoughts, unless they were insults, but Draco knew that he wasn't the only child his uncle had a soft spot for. Severus had always liked Harry, but after Halloween the two had grown closer. Besides Draco, he was the first person Harry talked to after he broken free of his mourning, zombie trance. Severus took his responsibilities as co-guardian seriously, making sure the boy was well-cared for, calling almost every night to check on his progress, handling all medical checkups as he done with Draco. They had lengthy discussions about the books they've read, flowers and herbs that interested them, and few times about Lily.

As for himself, life couldn't be any better for Draco. His best friend now lived with them, was now part of the family, and he could see Harry anytime he wanted. They had lessons together, though sometimes there were sessions meant for one that the other couldn't attend. After lessons, they'd disappear into the backyard or the Quidditch field where they'd be gone for hours. They even slept in the same bed together. The first night living together Draco slept in his room while Harry slept in the room Mother set up for him that was next door. Even though there was a door that connected the two, the distance felt odd. Within minutes, Harry came into the room and Draco welcomed him into his bed. Since then his room had became their room.

Of course, it wasn't always good times. Every now and then darkness crept in.

Like Christmas morning when they were nine. It started off on a good note. They woken up at the crack of dawn, then rushed over to the parents' room where they awakened the couple with loud Christmas cheer and bed-bouncing. Breakfast was a feast of large stacks of pancakes, fresh-baked croissants, and a buffet of differently-toppled French toast. The tree was stuffed with so many presents underneath its skirts; it looked like it was standing in a middle of a gift-sea.

Each gift was more wonderful than the last, but none could top Father's. He had gotten them both the latest brooms from the Quidditch shop, said to be top of the line and fast. Draco wasn't sure whose beam was bigger: his or Harry's.

"Thank you, Father."

"Thank you, Uncle Lucius."

"Think nothing of it, boys."

"We're so testing these out." Draco grinned at Harry.

"Definitely."

Things were well, until Dobby came into the room with a mysterious package wrapped in brown paper instead of red or green, tied with sting, with a blue envelope attached to the front that had Harry's name written across it.

"Who sent the package?" Mother questioned.

"Dobby does not know, Mistress Narcissa."

"You didn't see the person?"

"There was no person. Only an owl-gray and black," Dobby answered. "Dobby saw it flying around the house from the window. Then when Dobby opened the door, the owl dropped the package in Dobby's hands and vanished. All Dobby knows is that it was meant for Master Harry. It says so right here." He pointed to the envelope.

Uncle Severus rose from his seat and took out his wand, instructing the house-elf to place in on the ground. He cast several spells on it to see if there were any hexes attached to it. Nothing came up. Dobby took that as permission to push the gift over to Harry.

He opened the package before the envelope, pulling out a small stuffed animal stuff that fitted the palm of his hand. It was a black dog with doe eyes that went from plushy to real when Harry touched his head, his tongue wagging eagerly from its open mouth.

As cute as it was, there was something odd about it. Something vaguely familiar, though Draco couldn't put his finger on it.

Harry petted the dog before he set it down. The animal pressed close against him as he turned his attention to the envelope, slowly breaking the seal and pulling out a letter that looked like it had been folded over a dozen times, with dark ceases of yellow by the corner.

It took Harry a minute to read the letter. It only took him ten seconds to climb up the stairs afterward, crumbling it into a ball he tossed aside.

"Harry!" Draco called out.

"Would someone be kind to tell me what just happened?" Severus asked.

"Do you think Lupin sent it?"

Draco doubted that. Firstly because the man had already sent his presents to his "pup" days ago. Secondly, given the description Dobby gave of the owl, he knew it wasn't Lupin's.

He snatched the letter and smoothed it out.

 _Kiddo_ , it began.

Immediately red flags were drawn in his head.

_There are three possibilities as to what's being done with this letter:_

_1\. The ministry grabbed hold of it and are using it to track me down._

_2\. Your guardian realized who the sender was and got rid of it before you could see it._

_3\. It's now being held in your hands_

_For case three, I see two scenarios. Scenario one: before you even open the gift or the envelope, you're already feeding it to the fireplace. If that's the case then that must mean that it's not being handled or read by anyone, and the poor little guy barely had a chance. But I do understand why that might be the case. Then there's also scenario two: as shocked and angry as you may be (which is completely understandable), curiousity kicks in long enough for you to stop and read what I have to say._

_First thought that must to come to your mind: why? Why now? After two years? I wish I can give you the whole story (and believe me, I plan to in the future) but there's only so much paper and so little time._

_First off I wrote to you because I missed my kiddo too much. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you or wish that things could be different so I can see you. No doubt you've grown into the tallest short person the world has ever seen. I wish I was there to see it._

_I know how bad things look at the moment. And how extremely bad they look considering the fact I ran. But you have to believe me when I say I have reasons-good reasons. Also believe me when I say that I love you and your parents. Your dad was like a brother to me in every way except in blood. Your mother showed me more kindness in the first three years I've known her than all the years my family has in my entire life. And I loved you like a son. I know things look bad, but you have to remember that. And know this._

_I would never ever hurt you or them like that. **Ever.** I'd slit my wrists first. _

_His name is Scruffy by the way in case you were wondering or were thinking about keeping him. When I saw him, it took me back to the time you were two and saw my animagus form for the first time. Lily was worried that it would scare you. But even then you were a brave little lion. You grinned, clapped, and nicknamed me Scruffy. I hope you like him as much you did with me back then._

_Sirius._

Black became a ghost the night he disappeared from Grimmauld Place. Aurors have been tracking him down for two years now, chasing after possible sightings and leads, coming back empty-handed. Even though he was a wanted fugitive with a high price-tag attached to his head, Aurors had no luck finding him. As infuriating as it was, Draco wasn't surprised. Before he was a traitor, the man was a gypsy who spent years wandering and exploring the world. He knew all the right places to hide. The Aurors were no match for that. Each time they came close, Black slipped through their fingers, relocating to a new hiding spot. The last time someone claimed to have seen him, it was six months ago in Turkey. By the time Aurors arrived, securing the area where they believed he was in, he was long gone.

Harry at this point banished the man from his mind, pretending that he didn't know the name or had a godfather.

Apparently Black decided to remind him.

_Bastard._

While Father went ahead to report to the Ministry, Draco rushed upstairs. His nerves were wired when he came into his room and saw Harry lying in the middle of the bed, clutching onto Leo, lying still. It took Draco back to the first few weeks of mourning when Harry was trapped in his shell, haunted and quiet, his eyes empty and dead.

Heart-pounding, Draco crawled into the bed and pulled the blanket over their heads, shutting the morning light and the rest of the world out. He drew Harry close to him, wrapping his arms around him. It was a long, slow minute that dragged on like an hour before he felt a response to his touch; Harry turned over to him and leaned in closer till the lion was squashed in between them.

"He was their friend." Harry's eyes were glazed over, but they weren't haunted. Only lost in thought.

Draco nodded.

"He was their _friend_ and he betrayed them." He was trembling now, his voice cracking.

"I know."

" _I hate him_ ," The words were spoken so softly but was packed with anger that was fuming and explosive. Tears of anger and sadness pooled his eyes, but Harry refused to let them fall. "I hate him so much."

He bit his lip so much that Draco could see drips of blood leaking. He was trembling so badly, his side of the bed was shaking.

"Harry."

He shook his head. That didn't from Draco from reaching out, placing his hand against his cheek and using his thumb to brush against the soft skin.

"Don't shut me out," he begged. Harry shook his head, his lips trembling. "Please."

Harry tried pulling away from him, tried drawing back. But Draco was having none of that, moving closer, tightening his hold. "Don't."

Harry finally surrendered, falling onto Draco's chest, letting all the bottled-up thoughts and feelings out through loud, heart-breaking weeping. Draco did what he usually does during dark times: held him tight and wade through it, refusing for him to let him go through the darkness alone.


	6. Tradition, Formality, Sorting

When their letters to Hogwarts finally arrived, Father wasted no time cramming their schedules and brains with as much lessons their minds could handle, expecting nothing but high marks. He also wasted no time preparing them. Unlike a majority of parents who waited until the last minute to get their children supplies, within the first week of August, Father had taken them to Diagon Alley.

"It's kinda odd to me." Harry said while they were being fitted for their robes at Madame Malkin's.

"What is- _Ow!_ " he yelped, feeling the needle bite into his back. "Watch it."

"I would't have to if you stood still." The seamstress said.

_Wench._

"That Uncle Lucius is actually letting us go to Hogwarts."

Draco understood his friend's amazement. He felt the same way, too. Father made it no secret that he believed the school has lose most of its creditability since he went there and more importantly since the old goat taken over. He actually was looking into other alternatives. In the end though family tradition won over his pride. "Every Malfoy has gone to and graduated from Hogwarts. Father said it would be bad to go against tradition."

"Sometimes tradition can be broken."

Draco shook his head. Rarely in his family.

Minutes later after much sewing and poking, the robes were done and packed. Draco reminded Madame to watch herself next time while Harry thanked her with a smile.

She looked surprised but flattered, answering with a smile of her own. "Such a sweet boy. It's easy to see which one is the nice brother and which," Her smile darkened to a frown when she looked over to Draco. "is the not-so nice one."

 _While it's too easy to see which one is the old prune_. Before Draco could tell her off, Harry took their bags and dragged him out from the store.

"I think your dad will appreciate it if you didn't get yourself in trouble before noon."

Draco scoffed. "As if I'd ever get caught. Besides he'd find a way to have the charges dropped like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Whatever you say, Draco." Harry rolled his eyes, then paid close attention to Draco's shoulder. Or what was behind it. A smile curved his lips. "Hagrid."

Draco looked over and held back a groan. Barely.

The man Harry called was almost as big as the shops, his beard dark and thick as his hair. The giant worked as a gamekeeper at Hogwarts. From what Harry written in his letters during his visits with Uncle Severus, he was a nice man who was a bit of a chatterbox. From what Father had said from his visits, he was a half-breed drunkard. Draco at this moment was leaning more toward the latter, catching the whiff of liquor lingering on the man that grew stronger the closer the man approached them.

 _Great Merlin_ , Draco thought, his nose crinkling. _It's not even noon yet._

He couldn't help but feel bites of irritations snapping at him as he saw the giant pull Harry into a tight hug, ruffling his hair. "Ah, Harry. How you doing?"

"Good," Harry grabbed Draco by his robes and pulled him forward, making him stand beside him. "Hagrid, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Hagrid. He works as a gamekeeper in Hogwarts. I've told you about him."

He did, but left off the part about his stench. Draco could feel his eyes watering being so close to the man.

Hagrid didn't look all that pleased to meet him either. The look of brief puzzlement in his eyes reminded Draco of how Dumbledore looked when they first met him. He gave Draco a head twitch that barely counted as a nod before he turned to Harry and asked him about his summer.

"It was good. Had some fun at the villa. Did a lot of reading."

"That's good to hear," Hagrid said. "Reading is good for the brain."

"What about you?"

"I've been busy with errands. A lot of changes happening at Hogwarts. New animals, new supplies, even new dorms. I can't wait till you see how Professor McGonagall and I fixed up the Gryffindor common room. Even the first-years dorms got fixed up. I bet you're going to love it."

_What was this about Gryffindor?_

Before Draco could ask, another person joined in on their conversation.

"When I see what sort of help an establishment hires, it makes me wonder whether the position was offered out of generosity or sheer desperation." Father eyed the giant from head to toe. He wasn't the least bit intimidated by his size.

Draco did little to suppress the smirk that slashed across his face. Harry did little to hide his frown.

The oaf's cheeks were tinted red from either embarrassment or anger. "Malfoy," he drawled out the name like it was a bad word. "I'd say it's a pleasure but I'm a man who doesn't believe in lying."

"If only you were a man who believed in self-control." Father hinted toward the liquor-laced breath.

The oaf looked like he had a few choice words for Father but, either remembering who he was close to insulting and his high position or the fact there was two young kids listening, he wisely kept his mouth. He ruffled Harry's hair once more and gave him a departing smile. "See you soon, Harry. I know you'll have a good time at Hogwarts. I know I did."

"Bye Hagrid."

He also said good bye to Draco and his father, even though the response was nowhere near friendly or warm as it was with Harry. "Malfoy," He looked from father to son. "Little Malfoy."

Who was this oaf calling little?

Hagrid went on his way. Father watched him till he disappeared from sight before he turned over to Harry, his left brow raising slightly.

Harry lived with them long enough to understand Father's gestures. An arched brow meant a demanded explanation. Immediately.

"When Uncle Severus is busy in his potions lab, he lets me visit Hagrid at his hut. He's a really nice man, Uncle Lucius. He lets me help him with the animals."

"I see." Father replied.

The brow was still rose high. The explanation may have been given, but it wasn't enough.

"It would have been rude if I saw him and didn't say anything."

"There are certain people that are acceptable to greet in public, Harry, and others in private."

 _Or not at all_. Draco was fine with that opinion.

Father stared at Harry until the boy finally nodded his head, accepting his words. "Come along then, boys. We still have more shopping to do."

They stopped by Flourish and Blotts, where they got two sets of books: books for school and books for reading-pleasure. Harry's stack was a book or two higher than his. After their books, they picked out their cauldrons, even though he was a bit peeved that they had to settle with the plain pewter as opposed to the glittering gold. For their potion supplies, they needed to go to the Apothecary, but Father saved them the trip by having the supplies delivered to the manor.

Thank Merlin. Everytime they passed by there, Draco could feel his nose melting from the horrible stench.

"Let's see. Robes, books, supplies," Father mused. "Am I missing something?"

An idea sparked in the young boy's head. He nudged Harry, a silent question in his eyes. Harry, being able to easily read it, shrugged and gestured to him to give it a try. "Perhaps new brooms?"

His father wasn't easily swayed. "If I seem to recall correctly, I already got you two brooms for your birthdays."

Shoot. Draco was hoping that he wouldn't remember. His mind was still on the beautiful Nimbus 2000 that was posted on the display window of the Quidditch shop.

Harry tried a different angle. "Pets then? The letter did say students are allowed to have pets."

"I suppose," The boys tried their best to contain their excitement. "After you get your wands."

Even better.

For wands, they went to the best of the best: Ollivander's. The shop appeared small on the outside and larger as they stepped inside. The space was cramped, taken over by multiple shelves stacked and stuffed with countless boxes. They were greeted by a short man who had a puff of white hair and silver eyes that glowed like the moon. He looked like he was his early fifties when in fact he was old enough to recall measuring both their parents for their brooms.

"Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter. I was wondering when I'd see you."

Draco went first. Ollivander started him off with a few wands, but each time he tried it out something went wrong or the man snatched it from his hand, muttering it was wrong.

"Ah. Try this," After the fifth try, Ollivander handed him a wand he pulled from the top shelf behind him. "Ten inches, hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair."

Skeptical about the unicorn bit, Draco draw the wand in front of him. Blue sparks streamed from the tip, wrapping around his body like a blanket before they faded.

"I think we have a winner," Ollivander smiled. He looked to Harry. "Now onto you, Mr. Potter."

Draco's wand-picking may have difficult, but Harry's was disastrous. Ollivander placed close to a hundred wands into the boy's hand, half of which were snatched away before he could test it or caused something to explode.

The last one made every jar of ink explode, smearing the walls and floors.

"No, no, no. Definitely not that." Snatching yet another wand, the store-owner rushed to the backroom.

"Maybe I should just take up wandless magic." Harry suggested.

"Wait, wait, wait. I'm sure there's something here."

Minutes later the man came back with another wand. "Eleven inches. Holly and phoenix feather."

Harry reached out for the wand, firmly grasping it in his hand. Before he even brought it down, the wand awakened, releasing streams of red and gold that shot from the tip like fireworks that danced and burst around the shop, brightening the place with beautiful light.

A beam spread across Harry's face. Draco applauded for his friend. Father inclined his head, pleased. The only one who wasn't awed by the show by Ollivander who watched it all with a critical, thoughtful eye.

"Curious," he murmured. "Very curious."

"What's curious?" Harry asked.

Ollivander took the wand back, placing it back in his box, wrapping it in paper. He fixed Harry with an odd look. He looked almost as if he was possessed.

"I remember every single wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand was given to another-just one other. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you," Reaching across the desk, he pointed at the lightening-bolt that peeked through Harry's bangs. "that scar."

The excitement faded as color drained from the boy's face.

They paid seven gallons each for their wands. Draco couldn't get Harry out there fast enough, unable to resist throwing a glare in the man's direction.

To ease the tension from the wand-shop, Father took them to the pet shop, getting them both owls. Harry's was the color of fresh snow he named Hedwig while Draco's pick was an eagle owl with piercing eyes. Afterward they stopped for lunch at one of Draco's favorite spots, then over to the ice-cream parlor for dessert, where Father treated them to large sundaes.

Draco knew Harry's mind was still on what Ollivander had said to him about his wand. At lunch he had eaten very little. Now his sundae was slowly melting away while his unfocused eyes stared at it.

Licking a glob of whipped cream off his spoon, he swung his leg back and slammed it against Harry's ankle.

" _Ow!_ " Blinking those unfocused eyes that cleared from the pain, Harry hissed as he tended to his leg. "Stinking prat."

"You're spacing."

"I was thinking."

"Remember our rule?" It was one they made up when they were eight. Anytime one was in too deep in his thoughts, the other was allowed to use any means necessary to bring him back, which usually applied to elbowing or kicking.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're still thinking about what that nut said to you."

Harry rolled his eyes again, but he didn't deny it.

"He's an old goat."

"You said the same thing about Dumbledore, Draco."

"Which I still stand by. He doesn't know anything. You're not Vol-" He flinched, unable to say the full name. "The Dark Lord. You're nothing like him."

"I know that but…" Harry's voice trailed off as he brushed his hand against his scar. It's been four years, and the scar still looked as fresh and swollen as the day he got it.

Draco would've kicked him in the ankle again to bring him back, but decided to use a different tactic. He scooped a spoonful of ice cream, pulled his spoon back, and let it fly.

Harry managed to avoid getting hit face-first, but some of the ice-cream brushed against his cheek. "Hey!"

Draco smirked, helping himself to another spoonful. "Since your brain is frying from so much thinking, I thought some ice-cream would help cool you down."

"Have I ever mentioned how much of a prat you are?"

"You do. And I take it as a compliment each time, git."

* * *

At their last night at the manor, the house-elves served up a feast, all of which Draco savored, knowing there was a strong possibility that tonight would definitely be the last night he'd have good food for a long while.

"I hope Hogwarts' meals are decent."

Harry swallowed down a bite of steak. "Most of the food is pretty good."

"You said most? Most as in not always," Draco remarked. "Doesn't sound promising."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco winked at him, gently nudging his foot underneath the table.

"You boys excited about tomorrow?" Mother asked.

"Uh-huh," Harry answered. "I can't wait till we start Transfiguration."

"Flying-lessons are what I'm excited about. And Quidditch." Even though Severus told him first-years rarely made the team, he was determined to get a spot.

Father looked amused. "Think you'll manage to impress the captain?"

"I'm a Malfoy. Persuasion is part of our charm."

Father was pleased by the answer.

Severus paid close attention to the steak he was cutting. "I'm sure you'll be able to persuade McGonagall to join the Gryffindor team, Harry. Merlin knows they're in need for new players."

_Wait. What?_

Father didn't say a word. Mother tucked her hand under her chin, lips curving into a sly smile as her eyes shifted from Severus to Harry then back again.

"I don't know, Severus. Harry is a bright boy. I think he would do well in Ravenclaw."

It was true that Harry spent a lot of time in the family library, digesting book after book. He absorbed literature and knowledge the same way sponge absorbed water.

"Historically Potters have always been sorted into Gryffindor," Severus said. "The same way Malfoys have always been in Slytherin."

"I think tradition may win this case." Father said.

The conversation from dinner left a horrible taste in Draco's mouth that followed him into bed, making it impossible for sleep to come. As much as he tried to push the words out from his head, they charged right in, encircling his mind. It was one thing for that oaf servant to make that comment about Harry in Gryffindor. But for Father and Mother to think the same? For Severus to pretty much claim it was inevitable? Draco couldn't get past it.

Turning onto his side, he looked at the boy who slept beside him, his hair messy and wild as usual, his arm entwined around Draco's waist. Draco pulled him close and threw a leg over him, as if Harry was about to be taken any minute.

Severus was right. Potters have always been in Gryffindor the same way Malfoys were in Slytherin. Uncle James used to call his son his little lion. Aunt Lily's first toy to Harry was a stuffed lion he often kept close. And, if he was being honest with himself, his best friend did possess some of the qualities of a Gryffindor. Harry was brave; there was no doubt about that. He was one of the bravest people Draco knew.

But for four years the two have always shared a bed. They've shared a room. They've always been close to each other. And though Draco knew them being sorted into different houses wouldn't do anything to their friendship, it was hard to picture living in a dorm and not having Harry as a roommate. Not having him by his side.

It was a thought that was hard to swallow.

* * *

Platform ¾ was buzzing with noise: the loud squeals and cheers from friends who rushed into each other's arms after a summer apart, the loud chatter of parents who checked over their children to make sure everything was there, attendants who chatted to each other as they loaded carts and luggage into the train.

The day they've been dreaming was actually happening.

They were going to Hogwarts.

"Is it odd that I have a hard time believing that this is actually real?" he whispered to Harry, who shook his head.

"Definitely not."

"Boys," The friends looked away from the train over to Father. "I don't have to remind how you critical it is for you to be on your best behavior. Mischief is in your blood so understandably you'll feel the need to act upon it," He fixed them with a pointed look that got sheepish smiles in return. "Though I strongly advise that if you chose to do this, try not to get caught. Study hard. I expect nothing but top marks from you both."

"And," Mother stepped in. "at least two letters a week from both of you. We certainly didn't get you those owls for nothing."

At the sound of the train's whistle, last-minute hugs and kisses were being done as students started piling into the train.

"Best be on your way. Do well, boys."

"We love you." Mother hugged Draco first, then Harry, holding each boy tight before sending them off to the train.

They waved at the pair until they were two dark dots that disappeared from sight. Draco took Harry's hand and led them to the back of the train to one of the compartments.

Their friends were already inside one. Pansy was the first one to notice them, squealing as she jumped from her seat and rushed over to hug them. Draco was able to jump away, but Harry wasn't so fortunate, becoming caught in her web.

"Darlings!"

"Pansy." Her name came out as a wheeze from Harry's mouth. The girl had a strong grip.

"Why don't you let him go, Pans, before you suffocate him?" Theo didn't look from his book, licking his finger and turning the next page. "I think a lot of fans will have your head if you squeezed their hero."

Over Harry's shoulder, Pansy stuck his tongue out at him. The two have been at each other's throats since they could talk.

Blaise was lying comfortably on the seat, using Theo as a cushion for his back. "Malfoy, Potter. Took you long enough."

"Come off it, Zabini," Draco told him. He noticed there were two people missing. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Last I checked they were in another compartment playing Exploding Snap."

"Typical."

During the trip, the friends talked about their summer and their dreams for the upcoming year. Blaise was relieved to be countries away from his mother and new step-father, even though Draco knew for a fact the man has been showering him with presents since the honeymoon. Theo, who was an avid reader like Harry, was looking forward to peering through the school's library that was said to be quite impressive. Pansy was just excited to uncover new dirt on the students.

"Supposedly the first-years will have to wrestle a troll for their sorting."

What nonsense. "Who said that?"

Before Pansy could answer, the door slide open, revealing a girl around their age already dressed in her robes with bushy brown hair and front buck teeth that reminded Draco of a donkey.

"What," he demanded. "are you?"

The girl ignored his question, unknowingly adding her name to the list of people he found irritating, her eyes glancing around their compartment. "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost him."

 _Muggle-born_ , Draco decided, after one look. Her appearance said it all. "Does it look like we're the lost-pets center?"

Pansy and Blaise snickered. Theo smirked as he turned another page in his book.

Harry didn't find the comment all too-funny. Frowning slightly he elbowed him-a bit harder than necessary-in the arm and hissed at him not to be a prat. To the girl, he said "Sorry. We haven't seen him."

"So goodbye." Harry elbowed him again. Harder. Draco clamped in his lips to hold in his pained yelp.

The girl's eyes narrowed into slits as she looked to Draco. Then widened as they stared at Harry, recognizing him instantly. "Holy cricket. You're Harry Potter."

So she wasn't just a Muggle-born. She was _that_ type of Muggle-born. Even more irritating.

Ignoring the pointed looks she received from four of the less-than-pleased passengers, she focused her attention on the boy who looked a bit flustered by his admirer. "I've read about you. You're in the _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harry stared and blinked once, stunned. The girl stuck her out hand, smiling slightly as Harry took her hand and shook it. Draco was hit by the sudden urge to pull back Harry's hand and slap hers away, before he'd toss her out of their compartment.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"And I'm bored." Draco announced.

"And you're rude."

Draco gritted his teeth. Pansy took one look at the girl before she dismissed her. Theo didn't bother looking at her. Blaise was only interested enough to ask what her parents did for a living, picking up on the fact her name wasn't familiar in their circle.

"Oh, both are dentists. They were greatly pleased when I got my letter. It was quite a surprise. I didn't even know about Hogwarts, and thought magic was just a fairy-tale fable. I made sure to read everything I could about it."

"If you want," Harry said. "I can help you whenever you get stuck."

Draco's neck nearly snapped as his head quickly turned to Harry, stunned by what he heard. He looked over at the muggle-born and her smile widened.

"I would like that very much, thank you. Good to know that _some_ people have manners."

"And I would like very much for you disappear," Draco pointed towards the door. "Goodbye."

With a huff she left, unfazed by the glaring daggers he aimed at her back. Pansy quickly shut the door and made sure to lock it.

"Honestly," she said. "Can you believe her?"

"Well, she's a muggle-born. What do you expect? They're not known for their brains."

They all burst into laughter, except for Harry who only looked at Draco, his eyes unreadable.

"What?"

Harry shook his head and looked out the window.

He didn't speak him for the rest of the ride. Not when the conductor announced that they were close to the school, and they changed into their robes, tossing Draco's comb at him instead of calmly passing it over when he asked for it. He didn't speak to him as that giant servant greeted them at the platform. He was annoyed with him; Draco could tell by his silence. As annoyed as he was, it wasn't strong enough to keep him from joining Draco in the boat, along with Blaise and Theo while Pansy went with the other girls. He stayed close by his side when the giant escorted them to the breathtaking castle.

Standing in front of the steps was a tall witch dressed in green robes. Her black hair was tied into a tight bun, and her narrowed eyes scanned over them once Hagrid brought them over to her.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she introduced herself. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you will need to be sorted into your houses. There are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

 _From least to the best._ Draco felt a smirk spreading across his face. He nudged Harry, who rolled his eyes but had a small smile by the corner of his lip. The first one Draco had seen since the train, which he took as a sign that Harry's annoyance was waning.

"Now while you are here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn your house points. Any rule-breaking," She scowled. "and you shall lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a very high honor."

McGonagall slipped away for a moment, which the students used as an opportunity to talk. As they chattered and gossiped, Draco's eyes skimmed out the sea of faces. He recognized a few people, but most were strangers. There were a few he could see as useful allies, some that had potential, few that didn't pose as threat, while most he planned to avoid like a plague.

Like the fat boy carrying a disgusting-looking toad who had his cloak tied into his shirt like a bib. The annoying girl he recognized from the train who was babbling to those around her about facts she picked up from her books. Or the boy in the cheap robe with red hair that was so bright it hurt his eyes to look at him. His pale face was dotted with freckles, and there was dirt on his nose.

 _Must be a Weasley_ , he thought with a sneer. They were only in the school for a few minutes, and Draco already knew that this year wouldn't be as great as he thought. Especially if he was forced to breathe the same air as a blood-traitor.

For some reason or the other the blood-traitor's eyes were fixed on Harry.

"You're him, right?" The question practically boasted from his mouth, his loud voice attracting most of the students' attention. "Harry Potter?"

Harry looked at the boy with an expression that was a bit of questioning and suspicion as he nodded his head, which caused quite a stir among their peers.

"Then that means you have the…" He pointed to his forehead.

There was a slight pause in the second head-nod.

"Can we see it?"

Who did this idiot think he was? Draco stepped in front before he could answer, glaring down at the boy.

"Did you pick up your poor manners at the same place where you picked up that robe?"

The boy's cheeks flushed in anger. "I'll have you know that it belonged to my brother, Bill. My mother made it herself."

Definitely a Weasely. "I almost feel sorry for you. Almost though. I'd rather go naked than wear something so cheap."

He scowled at him, his face almost turning as red as his hair. "And who the heck are you? Other than a snot-nosed prick?"

If that was meant to be insulting, the weasel failed miserably. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

He coughed into his hands, but Draco heard the snicker underneath.

"Think my name is funny, do you?" he snapped. "Note that I had no need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley. My father is always telling me how your parents have more children than they know what to do with."

Weasley marched forward as if he were ready to punch him, close to five steps in before Granger pulled him back. He shrugged her off.

Draco watched the scene with amusement. He turned over to Harry, who looked from the boy back to him. "Some wizarding families are better than others, Harry. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."

"Who are you calling the wrong sort, you little ferret-"

"If you gentlemen are done," McGonagall said, tapping Ron on the shoulder with a rolled-up paper before gesturing him to join the others. "Follow me."

Along the way through the school, after nearly having their hearts leap from the their chests from the ghosts that decided to pay them a visit, Harry asked him in a whisper. "Do you have to be a prat?"

"I like to think of it as honesty."

"Some would say snobbish."

"Then they're idiots who aren't worth the time or space."

Harry's brow furrowed, and for a moment he looked at Draco as if he was meeting him for the first time. Draco wasn't sure if that he liked that look.

He found that he didn't like it at all. "He's a Weasely, Harry. His whole family is nothing but a bunch of Muggle-loving blood-traitors. He's not someone you should be seen with. Like I said, he's the worst sort."

He tried placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, and the boy shrugged him off. The gesture hurt Draco more than it should have. "Harry."

"I think I can tell the worst sort for myself, thanks."

"Harry."

Harry shook his head and continued to walk, moving a bit faster to keep some distance between them.

The Great Hall was lit with thousands of candles that dangled from the ceiling that illuminated a gorgeous nice sky dotted with stars. Four tables were set across the room with golden plates and goblets where students were seated, wearing their house badges. The teachers were presented at their station, Uncle Severus being among them. He gave the boys a slight nod.

On a high platform was a four-legged stool that carried an old witch's hat that was patched, frayed, and dirty.

Draco's nose crinkled slightly.

"Now when I call your names," McGonagall said, unveiling a long white scroll that touched the ground. "you will put on the hat and be sorted into your house."

The first one to go up was Hannah Abbot, a pink-faced girl with blonde ponytails. She stumbled out of the lines they were formed in and took slow steps toward the stool, almost as if she expected the dusty hat to bite her.

"HUFFLEPUFF." The hat shouted.

The house table applauded and welcomed their new member with wide smiles and open arms.

"Susan Bones."

"HUFFLEPUFF."

On and on, it went. McGonagall read a name from the list, the student would place the hat on their head, and the hat would scream out their house.

"Draco Malfoy."

The hat was barely on his head for two seconds before it cried out "SLYTHERIN."

 _Knew it_ , Draco thought. It was only inevitable.

More and more people were called. Some went to Ravenclaw, one too many were sorted into Gryffindor including that muggle-born, and those that appeared soft went to Hufflepuff. Draco was happy to see most of his friends made it into Slytherin including Theo whom Blaise betted ten gallons would go to Ravenclaw.

There was only one friend left who had yet to be sorted. Harry. He was among the last few students. To his annoyance, so was the weasel standing close to him. Too close for Draco's liking.

His hand formed into a tight fist as he watched the two. Weasel pointed to their table as he whispered into Harry's ear, his face anxious. Harry's face was unreadable. "What do you think he's saying?"

Blaise looked at them and shrugged with one shoulder. "Dunno. Maybe warning Harry to watch out for us evil little snakes."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'd rather be a snake than a cowardly lion any day."

"Ronald Weasley."

The boy looked like he was seconds away from fainting. Harry came behind and nudged him forward. With shaky legs, he walked up to the stool and waited as the hat decided.

"GRIFFYNDOR."

Weasley sighed, relieved. The table that was already filled with students cheered for him. Draco spotted several students who had the same too-bright red hair among them. Most likely his brothers.

"Harry Potter."

Whispers broke across the room as students and teachers paid close to the boy as he calmly walked forward to the stool and was still as the hat was placed in his head.

"I can't believe it."

"He looks so tiny."

"He has to go into Gryffindor. His dad was head-boy after all."

Draco gripped the table so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

Harry's sorting was taking longer than most of the first-years. A lot longer. Which could mean a good thing because that had to mean the hat was indecisive about Griffydnor. But at the other hand it also meant that he was thinking about other houses.

Harry listened intently to what he was being told, his facial expression calm and unreadable, not giving a hint to what the hat was saying to him.

 _Maybe it won't be that bad if he went into a different house_ , Draco tried to reassure himself. He tried to ignore how hollow the thought sounded. He tried telling himself that while it would be different, it wouldn't be completely unbearable. Much. After all, before they lived together, they often visited each other at their houses, throwing sleepovers. They could do the same thing again.

 _I'll just take the room and reserve the bed for him_. 'Course Harry would be coming to the Slytherin dormitory more often than Draco would visit Gryffindor. He'd put it with it for a while, but knew there was a certain amount he could handle before he exploded.

Things would be fine.

He prayed. He hoped.

"SLYTHERIN."

He-wait, what?

Draco's head jerked so quick, his neck nearly snapped.

Wait. Did the hat say what he think he said?

Unless it was some sort of dream. If that was the case, it was a vivid one, which consisted of Harry smiling as he walked over to the Slytherin table who applauded and cheered over landing the Boy-Who-Lived while most of the hall fell into silence. A vivid dream in which Pansy's squeal was louder than normal as she jumped from her seat to hug Harry tightly, gushing that he was too cute to be placed with the lions. A vivid dream in which Blaise looked stunned but relieved, saying to him he was glad he didn't make that bet with Theo about Harry going into Gryffindor otherwise it would have cost him twenty gallons.

It wasn't until Crabbe moved to his right on the bench to make room for Harry at the table that he began to ponder that it might not be a dream after all. His belief in the thought was waning as the boy took a seat right next to him, his emerald eyes sparkling.

"Looks like the lion became a snake."

Draco grinned and pulled Harry into a tight hug, only able to finally breathe as he felt the familiar warmth of his body and inhaled his scent that was cinnamon and treacle tart and something entirely Harry.

_It's not a dream. He's really in Slytherin._

The feast was large and delicious. Though it was nothing compared to how his house-elves cooked, it gave Draco enough hope that he wouldn't be going hungry this year. After their stomachs were stuffed with food and Dumbledore gave another speech about the upcoming year, the perfects lead them to their dorms.

The room he and Harry were assigned was impressive, the best the dorm had to offer, compliments of Father. Large, painted in rich shades of green and sliver. Two poster-beds sitting next to each other with velvet green curtains with the heads pushed against the wall and the school trunks in front of the feet. Even though they were set up near the dungeons, they still had a gorgeous view of the campus outside their window.

"Wow." Harry breathed.

"Indeed."

They changed into their pajamas and settled into their beds, though Draco didn't fell asleep so easily. He glanced over across from Harry, who had his back turned to him.

He thought it over for a second or two before he climbed off his bed and into his. Harry wasn't at all surprised by the intrusion, scooting over for Draco and pulling the blanket over their heads.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much." Draco nodded. Now it felt like home.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, snuggling his head against the pillow. Acting on instinct, Draco threw his arm around him.

"Harry?"

"Yea." A green eye popped open.

"What exactly did the hat say to you?"

The green eye blinked, and the other eye opened as well. Harry turned onto his side, and Draco followed his lead. "It said that as a Potter, Gryffindor would have been a good choice for me."

Of course. Draco barely suppressed an eye-roll.

"But," Gray eyes snapped back to emerald-green. "it also said I can be great in Slytherin."

So it came down to either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Harry could have easily gone to his parents' house, but he didn't. Which meant… "You mean you-"

"I think Mom and Dad would be fine with whatever house I got into. Gryfinndor's not bad, but," He smiled at him. "It doesn't have my best friend. Even if he can be a prat most of the time."

Warmth flooded into his heart.

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed with a nod. "You're mine and I'm yours. Remember?"

Smiling, Draco kissed him on the forehead. "Always."

Harry settled himself on his chest and fell asleep almost instantly. Draco stayed up for a few moments watching him, stroking his hair.

Harry was truly something. He could have easily gone to Gryffindor but chose to stay with him. Even though he was annoyed with him on the train and then at the steps during his confrontation with the weasel, he still chose to stay with him.

 _He's mine. I'm his and he's mine._ That's all there was to it.

Pecking his forehead again, he murmured against his skin "I love you."


	7. First day Nerves, Annoyances, and Sides

All too soon nighttime slipped away, making room for the morning that charged right in. Bright-impossibly, annoyingly bright-rays from the too-bright sun slipped through the curtains of their windows, hitting him right in the eyes.

 _Damn sunlight._  Grumbling, Draco turned over to the other side, away from the windows. His hand sought out for his favorite pillow, feeling nothing but the cool sheets. Surprised, he popped one eye opened, then the other.

Harry wasn't there.

He looked up and saw his friend leaving the bathroom, already dressed in his uniform.

"Rise and shine, Draco."

If he wasn't so dead, Draco would have thrown a pillow at his head to knock that stupid, knowing smile off his friend's face. He had to settle with a half-hearted death glare, too tired to put his full effort in.

Harry wasn't fazed by the look, used to the glares Draco shot when they had to get up. He walked over and tapped him on the leg. "Up and outta."

"No," he moaned, grabbing the pillow and covering his head. "No morning, no sunshine. Want sleep."

"You know Uncle Severus will have both our heads if we're late to class."

While that may be true, it still wasn't enough to persuade him to leave his bed, especially when it felt too warm and cozy. Harry decided to use a different tactic.

Underneath the sheets, Draco heard the whisk of the wand and the murmured chant, but refused to look up. It wasn't until he felt the blankets and pillows pushing forward, entangling around his body, lifting him up from the bed that he began to wake up.

Alarmed, he lifted his head and saw that he was five feet above the ground. He looked over to Harry, wand out, with a smirk on his face that would make the founder of Slytherin proud.

"You _wouldn't_  dare." Draco warned him.

Harry's sweet smile was all Draco saw before he was dropped. Thankfully he had two pillows that softened the impact of his fall.

"Goddamn git!" he cursed, getting himself off the ground.

"And you're a prat," Harry answered. "Now that we went over two well-known facts, let's go over another one. It's seven in the morning, meaning we only have an hour to get breakfast before class starts. And knowing you with your grooming obsessions, you'll take that long to get ready."

"At least I know how to properly groom myself, Potter." He eyed the messy black locks too wild for even his best combs to manage.

Rolling his eyes, Harry lifted Draco up by his armpits and walked him over to the bathroom, pushing him inside. "Just try not to use up all the hot water, prat."

"Git." Draco cried before Harry closed the door.

As annoyed as Draco was at his friend for his idea of a wake-up call, along with the fact his bum was still sore from the fall, he couldn't say that it wasn't necessary. Harry was right. He was in the bathroom for over half an hour, and that was just to fix his hair.

When he finally reemerged, Harry handed him his bag. Other than a smirk, he didn't say anything. A wise move since a smart mouth would have cost him a bruised arm.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Of course."

On the way to the Great Hall, steps faltered and heads turned as they passed. Eyes were drawn to them, more-so on Harry. Draco knew that it wasn't just because of his celebrity-status.

"Is it true?"

"I was right there. The hat actually shouted Slytherin."

"The teachers were shocked," a second-year Ravenclaw whispered to a Hufflepuff, her eyes fixed on Harry. "Even Professor Snape. I heard his jaw almost dropped."

He wouldn't go as far to say that, but Draco did know for a fact Severus was stunned by the sorting. After he had given the first-years a speech on House-unity, he came to their room to tell him how pleased he was to have them both under his house. For him, Draco knew it was only inevitable. But for Harry, Severus confessed that he was sure that McGonagall would be watching over him.

Harry had shrugged and answered that growing up with three guardians who have been sorted into Slytherin, some of the traits seemed to have rubbed off on them. But today Harry was looking a bit anxious about the sorting, ducking his head to avoid the wide-eyed stares, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Just ignore them," Draco told him. "They're insects."

He got a small smile in return, one that widened as Draco linked his arm through his as they continued with their walk, both with their heads held high.

Their friends already secured them a spot at the table.

"About time," Blaise said. "I was starting to wonder if we wouldn't see you till class."

"You know Draco," Harry said as they sat down. "He loves to take care of his hair. One strand at a time."

Draco lightly punched him in the arm. "Ha-bloody-ha, Potter. You're a comedian."

"Now that we've established that Draco spends a lot of time in the bathroom," Pansy smirked at the glare he shot her. "Schedules, people. We need to see what we have."

They had one class with the Hufflepuffs, two with Ravenclaw, and, to Draco's annoyance, three with the Gryfinndorks, including Potions.

"Great." Draco murmured.

"It won't be all that bad, Draco." Harry said.

"They're Gryfinndors, Harry. It will be bad."

"How bad could it possibly be?"

He glanced over at the table, where the lions were living up to their house mascot, acting rowdy and loud. Yogurt was slipping from the corners of one boy's lips as he was talking to his friends, clearly not a master of multi-tasking. Weasley was trying to stuff several things into his agape mouth, giving people an unwanted view of his chewed-up breakfast. Granger was looking at them, at Harry.

A smile spread across the girl's face when Harry looked her way, widening as Harry returned her smile with a soft one of his own.

 _Bad_ , Draco decided.  _Very bad._  He sent her a glare so harsh, it could peel the paint off the portraits.

Their first class was Transfiguration with McGonagall. The class was standard set with dozens of desks fitted for two, tall bookshelves, and a gray-striped cat lying on the desk.

"Think that's McGonagall?" Harry asked as they walked in.

 _Without question._  Draco nodded.

They set themselves at the front of the class while their friends occupied the first few seats around them.

Five minutes later, quills were taken out and notes were being written down, copied from the black board.

Another five minutes later, a student burst into the classroom.

"Thank Merlin," Wealsey gasped, taking in a gulp of air, as he hunched over, the palms of his hands slapping his knees. He was flustered and sweaty. "Made it."

"Are you sure about that, Mr. Weasley?" The cat stretched out her front paws before she leaped off the table. By the time her feet touched the ground, Professor McGonagall stood in front of them, eyes glaring down at the late-comer.

"That was bloody brilliant," Weasley said, amazed.

"Why thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said. "I can already see this class will be purposeful for you. I'll be sure to teach you how to transform even a mere pencil into a watch since it's clear time seems to slip from you. Unless you think you're already a master on the subject that you felt the need to come to class ten minutes late."

The weasel flinched. "It wasn't my fault, Ma'am," he stammered. "Really, it wasn't. I just overslept and couldn't find my-"

"Mr. Weasley, your excuses are a waste of valuable breath. And you are wasting valuable classtime with your excuses. I do not appreciate time being wasted or foolishness. Let today be a lesson for you. Next time I won't be so generous. Now have a seat."

Weasley's brush with embarrassment was the only interesting thing that happened in class. At first it seemed that Transfiguration would be promising when McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and then back again, stirring excitement within the class. She quickly killed that excitement when she told them that it would take months, possibly a year, before they learned something that complex. They spent most of class writing down notes.

Towards the end of class she had given them each a match and instructed them to change it into a needle.

The only thing that Draco managed to do with his match was put out the small flame his magic lit up. Harry had better luck, able to change the color into silver, but it still wasn't a needle.

"A little more practice, Mr. Potter, and you should be able to do the spell with ease."

"Professor," Granger called, three tables down. "Is this right?"

Granger's match wasn't a needle per say but she was able to turn it silver and give it a sharp end.

"Well done, Ms. Granger. Five points to Gryfinndor."

Granger beamed so wide, Draco was surprised that her face didn't spilt. It would have been a vast improvement to the original.

_Teacher's pet._

The rest of the week continued as such, them waking up early, meeting friends for a quick breakfast, then heading off to class.

Twice a week, Slytherins were paired with the Ravenclaws for Astronomy, a class Draco found easy since Mother has been teaching him about the stars since he was four.

History of Magic was about as exciting as it sounded and then less, taught by a ghost instead of a live teacher. Professor Binns, rumored to been around when Hogwarts was first built, thought that going over every aspect of magic, reciting every last fact and detail, was the best way for students to learn. A method that probably wouldn't be so bad if he didn't drone on and on about silly details that weren't worth the ink, and had a drawl in his raspy voice that lulled the students to dreamland.

Blaise was usually out after five minutes, Crabbe and Goyle then two minutes after. Pansy looked over magazines with Daphne Greengrass. Millie shot spit-balls at the back of Hufflepuffs' heads. Harry and Theo read their books while he either worked on a letter for his parents or reviewed for another class.

"I gotta say," Blaise stretched out his arms after they were dismissed. "That class isn't half-bad."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "That's only because you love your beauty sleep. I could hear your snoring."

"That was Blaise sleeping?" Harry asked. "I thought that it was a wild stampede."

They couldn't contain themselves, barely holding onto their snickers. Blaise glared at them, and punched Harry in the arm.

"Come off it, Potter. I know for a good fact you like to catch up on your bedtime stories in that class."

"At least I do it quietly."

"Sadly the same can't be said for you, Zabini." Theo smirked.

Blaise punched his arm for that comment.

For charms, Professor Flitwick kept things interesting with his enthusiasm that matched that of a Hufflepuff. He wasn't stern compared to the other teachers, and seemed to let anything go in his class.

McGonagall, though, was stern, using the first week of class for notes, notes, and more notes. By the end of the week, the sight of ink nearly made Draco's stomach churn.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting, but not in the way Charms was and different from the way they all thought it would be. It was a class everyone was looking forward, but turned out to be a joke, thanks to the teacher teaching them. Professor Quirrel was said to be skillful with spells and charms that ward off the supernatural. Draco remembered hearing from the upperclassmen that over a year ago, the man was able to fend off half a dozen vampires in Romania with a broken wand. It seemed though that very fight was too much for the man to handle, turning him into a jumpy, stuttering mess. Instead teaching them spells to ward off vampires and werewolves, he seemed to have taken a page off Professor Binn's lesson-plan in reciting facts about the history of not only magic, but the creatures of the supernatural.

"This is the man Dumbledore thought would be better-suited to teach us about the dark arts?" A stuttering, pathetic man who trembled at the sight of his own shadow? As opposed to Uncle Severus?

Harry shrugged, looking at the man with pity as he stammered through a tale of how garlic was believed to be a weakness against vampires.

Draco was never happier to see Friday come. Not only because it was the start of the weekend, but because they only had one class to attend, one of were which his favorites.

Potions.

Though there was a sour note to it. It was a double-session of Potions with the Gryffindors.

The class took place in the dungeons. Two steps inside, and a person was instantly cold. Professor Snape kept the room at a low temperature to preserve the potion ingredients. The Slytherins were already used to the cold since their dorms weren't that much warmer, but for the Gryffindors it was like stepping into a different world. Draco had seen several of them cast heating charms onto their hands they rubbed vigorously.

_Poor suckers._

Uncle Severus made his presence known with a loud bang to the door, casting a locking spell behind him, marching to the front of the class, his black robes billowing out.

He saw that Gryffindor Longbottom sink into his seat, terrified.

After taking down attendance, Severus folded his arms across his face and looked at them with those dark, black eyes that were bottomless and cold.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in a low whisper, but each word rang with perfect clarity. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate powers of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big as the dunderheads I usually have to teach."

Silence followed the speech. Some students looked nervous, some looked sick, and others like Granger looked like they were ready to prove themselves. Draco had no such worries nor did Harry. Severus has been teaching them potions since they were seven with the same razor-sharp edge and words they grew used to.

He nudged his friend, sharing a smile with him.

"Longbottom," Professor called out. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Granger's hand shot in the air, but the girl was wasting her time. It was the boy the man wanted.

"Um…um…."

"Sometime this century, Longbottom."

"I, uh, don't know, sir." At least Longbottom was smart enough to admit it than drag it out.

Too bad for him, Severus wasn't soften by the confession. "Did the thought of review cross your mind before you came to class, boy?"

The boy's face reddened, his eyes wet with tears.

Harry looked at him with pity.

"Potter, perhaps you can show the class why it is important to review. What would I get if I mix the two?"

"Draught of Living Death, sir." Harry answered.

"Five points to Slytherin for being prepared. Now can you explain, Potter, what the draught does? Perhaps in simpler terms so certain students," His eyes cut to Longbottom. "can understand it."

"Basically, it puts a person under a long, deep sleep, sir."

Snickering, Weasley elbowed the boy next to him. "Maybe that what's Binns' cologne is made of."

"Weasley," The boy flinched at his name. "Since you're in a chatty mood, perhaps you can answer this question. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Oh, um, well…" he said. "You'd look…into your cabinets."

_Idiot._

"Five points from Gryffindor for being unprepared."

"But-"

"Ten points."

"That's not-"

"You already cost your house fifteen points, Weasley, in a matter of seconds. Do you wish to make it twenty?"

The boy who had been laughing with Weasley elbowed him hard.

He had done so to keep Weasley from losing them more points. Too bad for him, his action got the opposite reaction.

"Twenty- _five_  from Gryffindor."

"That's not-"

"Shut up, Ron."

"Mr. Malfoy," Skipping over Granger who was waving her hand wildly, Severus turned to him. "Perhaps you can enlighten the class."

Sending a smirk to Granger who looked as if she sucked a sour lemon, he answered "You find it in the stomach of a goat."

"Five points to Slytherin."

After a series of questions, Slytherins earning more house-points, Gryffindors losing points, Severus called for them to partner up and to set up a potion to cure boils. Harry went to the cabinets to get the supplies while Draco already started firing the cauldron.

Harry cut up the ingredients equally and precisely before handing them over to Draco, who placed them carefully into the cauldron, stirring clockwise then counterclockwise, making sure there was a good amount of time between each stir. After all one last stir, Draco watched as the bubbles dissolved into the smooth material, changing into a bright lilac color.

"Ten points to Slytherin."

Grinning, the two celebrated their success with a high-five.

"It's unfortunate that your classmates seem to struggle with simple instructions."

Longbottom was shaking as he looked over at his crusty mix that was a nasty shade of pale pink. He grabbed a handful of porcupine quills he would have thrown into the mix if Harry hadn't stopped him, gently putting his hand down.

"Don't put too many," Harry warned him. "Otherwise it might explode. Then you'll be stuck with boils for a week."

Longbottom looked just as shocked as Draco was by the surprising help. Unlike Draco, though, the boy looked more so relieved. "Thanks. I'm not that great with potions."

"It's not so bad," Harry smiled gently. "You just have to review the material before class."

"Thanks. I'm Neville."

Harry accepted the boy's hand with ease, unaware of the envy-eyed, blonde-haired monster staring down at the boy. "I'm Harry."

Neville smiled.

Another name was added to Draco's list of least-liked.

While Longbottom managed to avoid getting himself boiled, his potion still wasn't good enough to pass Snape's inspection. Most of the students' cauldrons contained black, muddy tar that deepened the scowl of the professor's face. Granger's potion was close to passable, but not enough. Hers came out a bluish-purple and was still bubbling even after she turned off the fire.

"Care to explain yourself, Ms. Granger?"

"I swear, Professor, this isn't my fault. I did everything the book said. I followed all the instructions."

Poor, stupid girl. She was going to have to learn the books weren't always right.

"And you, Weasley?" Severus turned over to the girl's partner. "Your input?"

"Well-I-I tried to tell her that she didn't need to stir so much, but she didn't listen-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for inadequate team work."

 _I knew there was a reason why I liked Fridays_ , Draco thought, his irritation with Longbottom and the handshake momentarily forgotten. Potions was already a favorite subject of his, but now with Severus bashing the Gryffindors he knew this class would be entertaining.

Severus dismissed them, assigning them five chapters to review, informing the students he expected a seven-page paper on his desk first thing Monday morning.

"Malfoy, Potter, stay. I have something to discuss with you."

"Maybe he's going to see if Harry can make Malfoy into an actual human being?" Weasley whispered to Longbottom.

"Weasley, you already cost your house sixty-five points with your cheek. Do you care to make it an even seventy?"

The boy couldn't run out of the room fast enough.

Draco snickered, watching him.

When the last student left, Severus spelled the door shut and silent, gesturing for the two boys to come up to his desk.

"I'm pleased to see that you two managed to follow simple instructions. Perhaps there is hope for your class after all."

Draco wasn't sure if those words applied to all kids in their grade, but he knew that Slytherin was secured. He and Harry were a great team, able to balance each other out, managing to earn the house more than fifty points in today's class alone.

"And I'm also pleased to see that the castle is still in one piece after you've settled in," He looked at them pointedly, getting innocent smiles in return. "Should I expect that to change in the near future?"

Draco and Harry looked at each other, their smiles widening. Harry shrugged innocently. Draco's smile was cheeky as he replied to the question.

"Should it come down to that," Trading another look with Harry, he answered. "Thank Merlin for repairing spells."

"And camouflage spells." Harry added.

"And oblivating spells."

"And-"

"If another word comes out of either of your mouth, snakes or not, you will be serving detention."

The boys dissolved into laughter.

Severus rolled his eyes. "And Narcissa actually wonders why I detest the idea of marriage and children."

"Come on, Uncle Severus," Harry smiled innocently. "We're perfect, exemplary angels. Aren't we, Draco?"

"Absolutely," Draco slung his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Perfectly angelic."

"Perfectly demonic is more like it," The boys already lost themselves into laughter again, quickly composing themselves as Severus hit them with a warning glare. "Moving on. I'm pleased to hear that you're doing well in your classes. Lucius and Narcissa are as well, and expect to receive a letter from both of you before Sunday."

Shoot. He knew there was something he was he forgotten to do. And given the slight widening of Harry's eyes, he saw the idea also slipped his mind, too.

"And before I forget," Severus reached into his robes and pulled out a white, golden-sealed envelope he passed over to Harry. "Dumbledore asked me to give you this. He requests your presence after dinner. And only Harry." His eyes glared pointedly at Draco.

Draco, on the other hand, glared at the envelope with contempt, half-tempted by the idea of mixing it into their potion. Or throwing it in the fire. Fire always worked better. "He's not going."

"It's probably nothing, Draco." Harry argued.

"Then there's no reason for you to see him."

Harry rolled his eyes.

* * *

Despite Draco's less than warm feelings towards the man, or the Old Goat as he liked to call him, after dinner Harry walked over to the headmaster's office. With his bodyguard by his side.

"You know you don't have to walk me there."

"And you know you don't have to go."

"He sent me an invitation for tea, Draco. It was practically a summon."

"Details."

Annoyed, Harry rolled his eyes, choosing not to push the matter anymore. It was sometimes better to let Draco have the last word.

"Have I mentioned how much I don't like this?"

'Course that method usually worked if Draco was done talking about said-matter. "About a dozen times since we left dinner."

"And yet you refuse to listen to me?"

"Draco, for the sake of Merlin, it's just a quick chat. What's the worst he could possibly do?"

"Plenty."

Draco was scowling but not at him. He focused his hard glare at the ground, avoiding Harry's eyes. As hard as those eyes were, as tight as his scowl was, Harry detected the slight trace of vulnerability that slipped through the boy's cool mask.

A twinge shot through Harry's chest, dissolving his anger almost instantly, causing him to reach out and link his arm through Draco's. Draco looked up, confused. Harry sent him a smile, one which was slowly returned.

Dumbledore wasn't in his office but he did leave a note telling the young boy to entertain himself while he was there. Harry did just that, eyeing the books practically spilling from the bookshelves, the portraits that smiled and chatted with him for a few minutes, and the artifacts placed around the room including a beautiful, ruby-encrusted sword kept in a glass case.

But what really fascinated him was the beautiful red bird with fiery feathers and brown tips perched on the headmaster's chair, staring at Harry with those dark eyes.

"Wow."

The bird whined softly under its breath as he ruffled his feathers.

It kept its eyes locked on Harry as he took slow steps toward him, offering him his finger. The bird sniffed his skin, but accepted it. When Harry was close enough, the bird moved from the chair over to his hand.

"You're a pretty bird." Harry cooed, stroking its head.

"I must say I'm impressed. Fawkes is rarely taken by guests."

"Oh," He turned. Dumbledore entered the room, a smile turning his face, his eyes twinkling. "Professor Dumbledore, I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's quite alright, my boy. Besides it seems like you made yourself a new friend."

Fawkes screeched, as if he were agreeing.

Dumbledore directed them over to the corner of his office where two chairs were drawn to a maple coffee table already set with a steaming kettle-pot, two tea cups, and a plate of sugar cookies.

"May I pour you a cup?"

"Please," Harry smiled. Dumbledore poured, dropping two sugar cubes in, and set the cup on a saucer before he handed it to Harry. He took a small sip. The taste of honey-lemon hit his tongue. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," After pouring himself a cup, Dumbledore helped himself to a cookie. "How have you been, my boy?"

"Good, sir, and yourself?"

"Very well, thank you. So far the school year is looking very promising. Students seem to be settling in nicely. And I'm hearing very good things regarding the first-years, including yourself. Professor McGonagall was telling me that you already show a talent in Transfiguration."

Harry beamed with pride. While he was good at Potions and did enjoyed it, even under the watch of his sharp-tongued uncle, he wasn't passionate about it like Draco was. His passion laid in Transfiguration, and Quidditch. "It's an interesting class, sir."

"And you're proving to be a very interesting boy, Harry. You made quite the impression all before your first day."

"Well…" His cheeks warmed.

"I have to say, my boy, we were all quite surprised. Both your parents were among the finest students to attend this school. And already I can see you possess your mother's compassion."

"How do you-" Dumbledore smiled at him with ease.

"I saw how you were with some of the students during the sorting. You were very encouraging, which was just what they needed. And apparently in Potions class your advice to Mr. Longbottom prevented a grave accident from occurring."

"Oh."

Harry didn't know any other way to reply. He understood Dumbledore's shock. He understood everyone's shock. His parents made a name for themselves in the Gryffindor house, his dad for his pranks, his mom for her intelligence. Moony had sent him a letter, saying he believed Harry would make a name for himself there as well.

Gryffindor was a good house. He heard enough stories from his dad and Moony about the fun they had and the trouble they got themselves into, barely escaping by the skim of their nose. He knew he would be fine there but…

A familiar blonde with cool, gray eyes and a smirk crossed his mind.

Almost as if Dumbledore could read his mind, he settled into his chair and asked "You are quite close to Mr. Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "He's my best friend."

"And he was sorted into Slytherin, a house every member of his family has been sorted into since the school's early days. A house known for the sly and cunning."

Unsure of the direction the conversation was going, and if he liked the secretive tone that crept into the man's voice, Harry nodded.

"Understandable one would want to follow the same path a friend leads. It is important to stay united."

Harry nodded again.

"However as understandable as it may be, as safe as it appears, it's also good for one to choose a path that's more suited for them."

Harry felt his smile wavering. "I'm afraid I'm not following, sir."

"It's simply surprising. A Potter, the first one in centuries, to be in Slytherin. That very same Potter close to a Malfoy."

Now Harry was sure that he didn't like where this conversation was going. "Perhaps it all comes down to a matter of one's opinion."

Dumbledore smiled but his left brow arched slightly. "I can see Lucius has taken you under his wing."

Harry chose to keep quiet.

"How is he, by the way?"

Harry couldn't stop the frown that crossed his face. "I'm not sure how you mean, sir. How is he as a teacher? How is he as a guardian?"

"Both."

"He was stern but fair. He tutored both Draco and I in different subjects before we came here, so we would be prepared."

"Was he hard?"

"A bit." Harry admitted.

"I can imagine that you two must have butted heads often during the debate when the topic turned to a very clashing issue."

As in, when the topic turned to the muggle-side. Harry was a bit hesitant in answering, but decided to in the end. It would only appear bad if he didn't say anything. "Uncle Lucius has his opinions. I have mine," He shrugged. "He may not like them most of the time, but he always told us that it's good Draco and I form ideas of our own instead of blindly following that of another's."

"Wise words." Dumbledore poured himself another cup of tea.

Harry shook his head when he offered him one.

"How is he as a guardian? He treats you well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Narcissa? I trust she believes in the same philosophy."

"Yes, sir. Aunt Narcissa believes there's more than one side in terms of life," Though the man hadn't asked the same question, Harry still added, "She's an amazing woman, Headmaster. One of the greatest I know. She treats me like one of her own."

Dumbledore took a small sip of his tea. "Mr. Malfoy, from what I've seen and hear, is shaping out to be like his father."

Now Harry knew for sure that this conversation was heading in a very wrong direction.

"Draco can have his moments, Headmaster," Harry said. "But he is a good person. All the Malfoys are. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa have been kind to me. And Draco has always been there for me."

"I didn't mean to rifle you, my boy. I was simply making sure that your sorting was done by you, and not influenced by outside sources."

Perhaps most of the Slytherin traits have rubbed off on him during the four years he lived in the manor. He definitely could say for sure Draco was a influence, talking him into ideas that were bound to get them into trouble but still went along with because they were too good to resist. But in the end, his sorting was his decision, and he chose the house where he wanted to be.

"You are a bright boy, Harry. Bright, kind, and I can already see you'll be a promising student. Promising as you are loyal. However as loyal as you to current friends, it's also not a bad idea to seek out new ones. Venture out, widen your horizons."

Dumbledore's words followed Harry Saturday night as he skimmed through the library's shelves in search of a book Theo recommended to him.

It was no secret that Dumbledore trusted the Malfoys as much as they trusted him, which was less than little. Harry still remembered how stunned the Headmaster was when Aunt Cissa was named as his guardian. He remembered the small conversation he had with Uncle Lucius that quickly went from chilly to downright cold in a matter of seconds.

In some aspects Harry knew it had to do with their ideals. The Malfoys, particularly his uncle, believed in the strict exclusion of the wizarding world while Dumbledore believed it should be opened too all, including the muggle-borns. But he knew there was more to the tension then that. He just wasn't sure what.

He asked Uncle Severus one time, and the man had told him it was nothing that should concern him. Harry knew the man was holding back, hiding something, but chose to let it go.

Now he couldn't help but think about it.

A burning sensation shot through his scar, and he rubbed against it, his fingers tracing the outline of the lightening-bolt.

"You know that they say if one stays still for a long time, they become frozen."

Harry turned around. Hermione approached him, several books held close to her chest. "I thought that only applied to faces."

"Well, they usually do," she said. "But there is also a high chance it can happen to a person's entire body if they're still for too long."

Harry smiled her, then looked down at the books she was carrying. He recognized the titles as works from the muggle-world. When he told her so, asking which author was her favorite, the girl looked speechless.

"My mother was a muggle-born witch," he explained. "She wanted me to grow up knowing how both the wizarding world and muggle-world worked."

Hermione was stunned, but did smile. "I have to say you're different from most wizards."

"How did you expect wizards to be?"

"Well after the train, I thought most would be would be like your brother."

 _His brother?_  "You mean Draco?" Hermione nodded. Harry frowned slightly, confused. "He's not my brother."

"He's not?" The girl frowned. "Well you two certainly are close. He barely leaves your side. I'm surprised that he's actually not here with you."

"We've always been close," Harry said, unsure how he felt about the brother comment, choosing to push it aside. "Since we were kids. He's my best friend."

"Seems overly possessive for a friend."

He knew she was more so making an observation than trying to offend. It was a similar thought that came across his mind more than once over the years, but even so the word sounded off, almost wrong when Hermione said it. "Draco's just…Draco. He can be a little…" It was hard to think of the right word to describe the boy altogether. "Headstrong."

"Rude is more like it," Hermione said. "He could learn to be a little less of it."

"And you could learn to be a little less of a know-it-all, Granger."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Draco strode towards them, standing by Harry's right. His eyes were anything but warm as they looked at the girl.

Hermione returned the look with a dark one of her own.

Sensing the tension that thickened the air, Harry stood in front of his friend, blocking Hermione from his view. "Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were with Blaise and Theo."

"Blaise decided it would be fun to take a nap. Theo decided to annoy Pansy. I looked for you in the room. You weren't there."

There was an accusation in his words, one Harry chose to ignore. "I left you a note."

"Must not have seen it."

"Or chose not to." Hermione mumbled in a not-quiet tone.

Draco glared at her.

"It's fine," Harry placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, redirecting his attention. "I was going to head to the Hall for some dinner. Care to join me?"

Draco smiled at him. "I have a better idea. I'll get one of the house-elves to bring some food to our room."

"Alright," He could always come back for the book another day. He turned around to give Hermione a smile. "I'll see you around?"

She nodded with a smile. Harry walked towards the exit. He was close to five steps in when he realized he wasn't hearing footsteps behind it. He turned back. Draco was still standing at the same spot.

"You go ahead," he told him. "I'll catch up."

Harry glanced at him, then Hermione, and back at Draco. He wasn't sure if going ahead was a wise decision, but decided that the two couldn't do much damage in a public place. Especially when Madame Prince was there, ready to toss out anyone who even mishandled a book.

"Okay. I'll see you."

Draco kept the smile on his face as he waved to his friend. As soon as Harry was gone from sight, he turned over to the muggle-born witch, his smile dropping to a snarl.

"Stay the hell away from him, Granger, if you know what's good for you!"

The girl looked shocked by the order, though not as much as she was mad. "You're his best friend, Draco, not his keeper. Harry is free to be friends with anyone he wants. You don't owe him."

Who did this girl think she was? To think she had the right to say his given name, like they were equals? To question their friendship? To say that Harry wasn't his when in fact he was?

"And as his best friend,  _Granger_ ," Draco spat out the name with unmasked distaste. "It's my job to make sure that he doesn't associate himself with certain people."

"You mean people other than pure-bloods? Someone below your stature?" Granger challenged.

Draco smirked at her. "I know you were a smart girl. Annoying, but smart."

Hermione huffed and made sure to elbow him as she went on her way, but before she left she turned back to say this to Draco.

"Before I was introduced to the magical subjects, I had a few favorites from my world. Calculus was one of them. The problems played with the mind and took hours to solve, but I loved it. And I think I came across one question that's more complicated than any Calculus problem," She looked at him over her shoulder. "What on earth would possess a nice, sweet boy like Harry to be friends with someone nasty and arrogant as you?"

_The little-_

"How he tolerates you, I have no idea. I only hope Harry realizes he can do better though.  _Much_  better."

Fuming, Draco took out his wand and aimed a stinging hex at the girl, missing his target by only two inches.

_Wench._

Granger got marked herself down of the top-five in his list.


	8. Boils and Troubles, Doubts and Fears

Words were like insects. No matter how hard you tried to ward them off, how many precautions you take to keep them at bay, they still found to a way to thrive. Especially the worst kind of words, the ones that scarred the heart, slashing the hidden wounds with whips made of salt, resurfacing the pain and insecurity you tried to put down.

Granger's words weren't ordinary insects. They were cockroaches that crept and crawled across his mind, refusing to die no matter how hard he tried to kill them.

" _What on earth would possess a nice, sweet boy like Harry to be friends with someone nasty and arrogant as you?"_

Growling under his breath, Draco gave his pillow a hard punch at the center before shutting his eyes, attempting to sink into dreamland.

The words refused to be ignored.

" _How he tolerates you, I have no idea."_

They refused to let him be.

" _I can only hope Harry realizes he can do better._ Much _better."_

With a loud groan, Draco finally gave up. He stared out of their window, watching the late night-sky irritably.

 _Stupid, wretched nuisance of a girl. What the hell did she know?_  Draco scowled.  _She doesn't know anything._

 _Are you sure about that?_ A treacherous voice whispered in his head _._

Of course he was. He was sure he was.

...Right?

He laid flat on his back and looked to his right. Harry was sleeping peacefully beside him.

Granger was a nuisance; he knew that from the moment he met her. She was a know-it-all who loved to show off her cleverness, thinking herself superior, sprouting out words such as this and more that made his irritation towards her deepened. She wasn't the first one to say such things to him. Most people he came across believed he was entitled and spoiled. His friends, Blaise in particularly, have admitted (or in Blaise's case, full-out said) that he was colder than ice.

He knew it, too. He could admit that he held himself to a high standard and refused to associate with anyone beneath that standard, letting it be known loud and clear. But that was what made him different from Harry.

Harry, who was sweet. Harry, who was kind as he was compassionate. Harry, who was by no means graceful except for when he was flying but charming in his way, filled with such warmth that easily drew people in.

Draco wasn't naïve to believe that people settled with just one friend. His father had told him while it was good to have a close friend; it was also good to have an elite circle of allies that could useful to you in the future. It was one of the reasons why he and Mother had Sunday tea, so he could form his circle. Even so, that didn't stop the bites of irritation and jealously from pricking him whenever Harry offered a smile to another child or paid close attention to someone else other than him.

Probably because, as much it pained him to admit it, he knew Harry could do better. He knew he could be difficult to deal with most of the times, and Harry was blessed with unyielding patience. However, who was to say how long that patience would last? What if one day it ran out? Harry could be friends with anyone. One week in school, and he already made more than several friends outside of Slytherin, including that damned know-it-all. What was to stop him from becoming close to someone else? From deciding that he could do better? From deciding that Draco wasn't worth the trouble?

The thought of Harry walking away, leaving him behind, stung his eyes with a flood of tears he struggled to keep caged.

Harry has been by his side practically forever, since they were five. It was hard to remember what life was like before the Potters came for Sunday tea, before impossibly deep yet bright green became one of his favorite colors for eyes, before he saw that shy smile turning the black-haired boy's somber face. It was hard to remember a time when Harry wasn't with him.

It was even harder to picture how life would be without him.

A slight nudge in his arm brought him back, turning his attention over to the right, where a pair of impossibly deep yet bright green eyes looked at him.

"You're spacing." Harry whispered.

"I was thinking."

"Liar."

Unable to think of a proper response, his throat suddenly tight, Draco kept silent as he averted his eyes.

"Draco." He looked up when he heard his name. Harry moved closer to him, his hand reaching out to catch a tear that escaped from his hold, rolling down his cheek. The touch was so gentle, so warm and familiar, it nearly made him lose his grip on his tear-filled eyes altogether.

Without saying a word, Harry opened his arms. Draco fell into them almost instantly, laying his head on the boy's chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart that vibrated against his cheek.

One arm coiled around his waist, making him feel safe. The other arm went to his head, its fingers threading through his hair.

He was able to breathe a bit easier now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

He shook his head. The only thing he wanted was to stay like this forever, him and Harry in their nice bed, where nothing could get to them. Where nothing could separate them. Where nothing could take Harry away.

Well, actually, there was something else he wanted.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Would you.." His hesitation was almost as silly as his request, but he forced the words out. "Would you sing to me? One of those Disney songs?"

When Harry first introduced him to the strange films, Draco didn't expect to like them. He thought they would be another useless Muggle invention when in fact it turned out to be one of their finest. He couldn't say the same for all films, but he did know he was fond of those that came from Disney. The stories were fascinating. The songs were good. Sometimes they spent hours in front of the TV, splitting bowls of popcorn and candy, lost in the world of princes and princesses, dark spells and talking creatures.

He thought Harry would question him. He hadn't asked for a song in over a year. Or poke fun at him, reminding him of his original doubt towards the films. But Harry simply stroked his hair, smiled, and asked which one.

"The Tarzan one. The one about the heart."

Harry didn't pause for a moment.

With his fingers moving through his hair, his touch smoother and softer than any comb, he began to sing.

 _Come stop your crying_  
It will be alright  
Just take my hand  
Hold it tight

_I will protect you_   
_From all around you_   
_I will be here_   
_Don't you cry_

Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. There was no sound sweeter than Harry's when he sang.

 _For one so small,_  
You seem so strong  
My arms will hold you  
Keep you safe and warm  
This bond between us  
Can't be broken  
I will be here  
Don't you cry

_'Cause you'll be in my heart_   
_Yes, you'll be in my heart_   
_From this day on_   
_Now and forever more_   
_You'll be in my heart_   
_No matter what they say_   
_You'll be here_   
_In my heart_   
_Always_

_Why can't they understand the way we feel_

_They just don't trust what they can't explain_ _  
I know we're different, but deep inside us_ __  
We're not that different at all

_And you'll be in my heart_

_Yes you'll be in my heart_ _  
From this day on_ __  
Now and forever more

That was all Draco could hope for.

 _Don't listen to them_ _  
'Cause what do they know_ _  
We need each other, to have, to hold_ __  
They'll see in time, I know

_When destiny calls you, you must be strong_

_I may not be with you_ _  
But you got to hold on_ _  
They'll see in time, I know_ __  
We'll show them together

He loved almost every song from Disney, but this one was his favorite. It reminded him of him and Harry; how entwined they were to each other.

 _'Cause you'll be in my heart_ _  
Believe me, you'll be in my heart_ _  
I'll be there from this day on_ __  
Now and forever more

_You'll be in my heart_

_You'll be here in my heart  
No matter what they say_

_I'll be with you_   
_You'll be in my heart_

_I'll be there_  
Always...  
Always...

_I'll be with you_   
_I'll be there for you always_   
_Always and always_

_Just look over your shoulder_

_Just look over your shoulder_ _  
Just look over your shoulder_ _  
I'll be there_ __  
Always

 _Will you?_  Draco shoved the thought away, blinking his eyes to keep the tears at bay.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You'll never leave me, right?"

The hand stroking his hair paused before pulling away. The arm wrapped around his waist loosened. His heart throbbing painfully, Draco lifted his head. Harry looked down at him questioningly, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"What brought this up?" Harry asked.

The reason was hanging off the tip of his tongue, ready to be voiced. Draco pulled it in, refusing to say it. Harry was the only person he could show vulnerability to, openly and freely without fear of repercussion, but Draco wasn't sure how he'd react if Draco admitted his fear of being left behind. It sounded pathetic even to him. More than pathetic.

And for all he knew, his confession could plant the idea in Harry's head.

"It's just-I-"  _I'm scared that what Granger said was true. I'm scared that one day you'll realize that you can do better. I'm scared that you'll walk away and I won't be able to do anything about it and that I won't be able to handle it._ "I just don't want you to leave me."

Harry stroked his hair. Draco arched into his touch.

"I'll never leave you," he promised. "I'll always be by your side even we get married to other people and have to move away. Or if you get sick of me."

Draco frowned at him. The marriage comment left an odd feeling in his stomach but he chose not to comment on it. "I'll never get sick of you. Ever." He was never more sure of anything else.

Harry smiled at him. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

"You're mine?" He couldn't rid the desperation that slipped into his voice, almost shaping the question into a plea.

"Always," he answered easily. "And you're mine?"

"Always." He kissed the inside of his elbow. "I love you."

He felt a soft kiss placed on the crown of his head, casting away all the fear and doubt from his mind like a spell. "I love you, too."

He fell asleep with a soft, relieved smile on his face.

* * *

The glamour of the school quickly began to lose its luster with the boys as they were furthered pulled down into the sea of assignments, homework, tests. September gave way to October, the leaves changing into bright colors, the air warming to a cozy crisp. Time was being taken up by the school assignments, along with Quidditch practice.

Draco had no doubts that he would make the team. He also had no such worries for Harry. He was an amazing Keeper, Harry a brilliant Seeker. The Slytherin team would have to be complete morons not to accept them. Draco had planned on impressing the Captain at try-outs, but fate would instead have the boys make their debut at flying class.

With Longbottom and Weasley being the key elements used to impress Madame Hooch.

Longbottom lost control of his broom and took off into the air, flying close to thirty feet. Weasley, who had been standing next to the boy, tried pulling the boy back, only to end up being an unexpected passenger for the ride, hanging off by the broom.

The two would have fallen to their deaths, or at least broken multiple bones, if Harry hadn't raced after them, trailed by a reluctant Draco who noted right away that it would be a two-man job.

As it turned out, helping two Gryffindorks did come with an advantage. Madame Hooch watched how in sync the best friends were with each other, anticipating the other's move without saying a word, switching between following and leading with ease. At the end of class, after rewarding them fifty points each for their flying and the rescue, she pulled them aside and informed them that she expected to see their faces at the try-outs.

The upperclassmen were anything but gentle on them as they tested out their skills. Particularly one nasty Marcus Flint, who was as pleasant as a troll. In the end, the smug captain was eating his words, Madame was impressed again, and the two secured themselves a spot on the team.

In the early morning, a sleepy gray cracked open as sunlight flashed towards his face, groaning under his breath.

Then immediately jolted up, both eyes wide open, as the date slammed into him.

Today was October thirty-first. Halloween.

He glanced over at his best friend who was already out of bed, dressed and ready for the day.

Halloween was a holiday they used to enjoy when they were kids, being a close-second favorite to Christmas. Dressing up in costumes, decorating their faces with makeup and masks, stuffing their faces with treats. Then they turned seven and the fun of Halloween died the night James and Lily were murdered.

Since then Halloween was a day that Draco hated, paying close attention to his friend, anxious for his reaction. Sometimes Harry treated the day as any other holiday, throwing as much enthusiasm as he did when they were younger, back when it used to be safe and fun. Other times the zombie Draco remembered and feared returned, casting those bright eyes into dead emptiness, drawing Harry into its dark shell. On the one-year anniversary of his parents' death/Halloween, Harry locked himself in the room Mother set up to be his and didn't come out until November first, taking in a deep breath as he emerged from the room, accepting the tight hug Draco besotted on him.

After he straightened his tie, Harry turned over to him, as if he could sense Draco's anxiety. A brief smile touched his face. "Morning."

"Morning."

"Happy Halloween."

His tone was light, almost playful, like Halloween was simply another holiday. The look in his eyes said otherwise.

Draco's body felt almost naked without the security of his blanket, but he paid no attention to it as he rose from the bed and walked over to his best friend, engulfing him in a hug.

It took awhile for him to feel any movement. Harry was still for a moment or two before he slowly laid his head on Draco's shoulder.

"Do you remember what I said to you?" Draco asked him. "At the funeral?"

"Yes."

Draco decided to remind him anyway. "You're not alone. You can never be alone. Not when you have me."

Harry pulled back slightly. Draco kissed his forehead, and then took a step back to look him in the eye, even though there was a part of him that almost wanted to prolong the kiss.

"I'm yours and you're mine." Draco told him.

He was never happier to see the smile that slowly blossomed on the boy's face, even tentative and soft. It was still beautiful to him. "I guess that's why I have you."

"But of course," He spoke with a haughty toned-voice he knew that would always get a laugh from Harry without fail. "It's a miracle you managed to survive so long without me."

Just as he hoped, laughter spilled from the boy's lips as he pushed his friend into the bathroom. "Prat."

"Git."

The day passed on uneventful. The aroma of pumpkin was thick in the air, spreading throughout the castle. Leaves flooded onto the school grounds like a beautiful autumn shower.

Most of which were captured in Harry's hair.

Draco laughed, watching his friend struggling to pull the leaves out. "You're like a leaf-magnet."

"Ha, ha, ha." Harry dryly replied.

Draco sent him a smirk as they took their seats in Charms class.

After spending weeks reviewing technique of wand movement and levitation, they were going to put what they learned into practice with a white feather the Professor placed at each desk.

"Remember the nice wrist movement we've been practicing," Professor reminded them, perched on top of his pile of books. "Swish and flick."

The students brought out their wands and followed through with the movement, swishing and flicking, but it was just like the first day of flying class all over again. Most of the feathers didn't even move, lying perfectly still. Some rattled but didn't take off. One feather exploded, courtesy of one Seamus Finnegan.

The feather blew up into the boy's face, smearing it with smoke and feathers, blowing off most of the hair of his eyebrows.

"I think we'll need another feather, Professor." His partner, Longbottom, croaked. His right cheek was smudged with smoke.

Draco snickered. Harry's lips quirked in amusement.

Weasley waved his hand wildly at his feather like he was trying to kill a fly. " _Wingardium Leviosa! Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

Granger put a stop to it, settling his hand down. "Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out," she scolded. "And you're saying it wrong. It's Win- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa. You need to make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You try then if you're so clever."

She accepted the challenge, flicking her wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

The feather rose off the desk, hovering four feet over their heads.

"Well done, Ms. Granger!" Professor praised. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

The look on her partner's face was sour, one that broadened to an even sourer mood as they were dismissed from class.

" _It's levi-o-sa_." Feet away, they could hear Weasley's intimation of the girl, setting his voice to a high pitch, drawling the word obnoxiously. "She's a nightmare, I'm telling you. No wonder she doesn't got any friends."

Granger decided to make her presence know, jumping in front of the group, knocking Weasley in his shoulder as she quickly walked into the castle. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I think she heard him." Harry said.

Blaise shrugged, unfazed. "The truth hurts but someone gotta do it."

Draco couldn't agree more. It was high-time anyway that the girl got knocked off her high horse.

Harry didn't think so. He watched her until she was gone from sight. He looked like he wanted to go after her.

Draco quickly acted, grabbing hold of his hand before he moved a step. "Don't, Harry. It's not your problem."

"But-"

"Draco's right, you know," Pansy said. "Dumbledore can preach all he wants to about school unity, but at the end of the day it's every house for themselves. Let the Gryffindors handle their cubs while us Slytherins look out for our snakes."

There were times when Pansy could be so dramatic and shrill; Draco wondered why he kept her around. Moments like this, proving her worth, reminded him why.

"Well said," Draco's words put a pleased smile to the girl's face. "Let's head to the common room."

Blaise was already leading the way, Theo and Pansy following closely behind, getting into another argument.

Draco turned to Harry, annoyance swirling in his body when he saw the boy's attention was still on the silly girl. "Like Pansy said, let the Gryffindors handle their problems, us our own."

Harry wasn't swayed, still looking after where Granger disappeared to, but he did accept Draco's hand and allowed himself to be led back to the room, which the young blonde took as a small victory.

Thousands of bats flew across the ceiling that was painted as a full moon-illuminated, night-sky later on that night in the Great Hall. Even though the teachers didn't plan anything festive for the holiday, they still put the effort into decorating. Still had the house-elves cook up a feast that was just as grand as the welcoming ceremony, setting out the fine golden plates and cups, laying out dishes and dishes of delicious food.

"This is a total waste."

Draco swallowed a bite of the pumpkin pie he was sharing with Harry, looking up at Theo who had spoken. "What's a waste?"

"That on a day where magic is at its highest peak and the veil between the living and dead is at its weakest, we're wasting it away with classes. When we could use this day to communicate with the dead."

"Or at least learn some interesting dark spells." In class, Quirrell thought it would be useful for them to peel raw garlic with knives so they would build immunity to its stench, which he felt would help them if they came across a vampire. The only that activity did was make Draco's cheeks slick with tears. Not to mention the smell clung to his robes most of the day.

"There's that too."

"We already talk to the living dead on a regular basic, Theo." Harry nodded towards Nearly-Headless Nick who was chatting with the Gryffindor Perfect.

Theo shook his head. "I mean interesting ghosts."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Please. Knowing you, you'd just use the day to talk to your favorite dead author and ask him about the inspiration for his books."

"At least I know how to read!" he snapped. "Unlike some people. And no, I don't consider those fashion magazines you're obsessed with reading material."

"Shut it!"

"Why don't you make me?"

"Fun-killer!"

"Shrilled whiner!"

"Arse-licker!"

"Muggle-lover!"

Pansy's eyes widened as her mouth dropped. She quickly recovered from her shock, and retaliated with a kick she delivered to Theo's ankle that was so hard Draco swore he heard a bone crack.

"Wretched, sadist wench!"

"That's what you get, you arse!"

"You two are amusing than any show Mother has taken me to." Blaise smirked.

"Shut it, Zabini!" they said in unison.

It never got old.

"Think that they'll ever call it a truce?" Harry asked him as they watched the show from the sidelines.

"I see only one way of that happening," Draco answered. "One of them killing off the other and throwing a grand funeral in honor of the sweet silence."

Harry nudged him in the shoulder with a small laugh. He was about to reply when Professor Quirrell sprinted into the room, turban skewed, his face pale as a sheet.

"TROLL!" he screamed frantically, running towards Dumbledore. "IN THE DUNEGON! TROLL! IN THE DUNEGON!"

By the time he reached the headmaster the hall fell into silence.

"Thought you ought to know."

He fell into a dead heap.

The hall exploded in a mass of screams and panic.

It took several purple firecrackers bursting from Dumbledore's wand for the noise to decease.

"Perfects," he instructed calmly. "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately. Teachers, please follow me so that we can find our unexpected guest."

"Isn't he forgetting that our dorms are in the dungeons?" Crabbe asked. Goyle nodded his head.

"Proves that the old goat is trying to kill us." Draco said.

He expected Harry to respond, but heard nothing. He turned around. He broke away from the group and rushed over to the Gryffindors that the House Perfect was having a hard time organizing, over to Weasley.

"Where's Hermione?"

"I don't know," the boy confessed. "Neville said that she's been in the girls' bathroom all day."

Draco pushed and shoved his way through the frantic students to get to Harry.

"She doesn't know about the troll," Harry said. "She could get hurt."

Weasley paled, and then immediately took off. Harry followed, only to pulled back by Draco who grabbed his sleeve.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, she's not our problem."

"Well she's my friend, so that makes it my problem." Harry shrugged off his hand and joined the weasel in their hunt to track down the witch.

Draco thought it over for a spilt second before finally making up his mind with a grumbled curse muttered under his breath as he ran after Harry.

 _Damn you, Potter!_  As kind as Harry was, he could also be a huge pain in the neck. One Draco was sure was going to get him killed one of these days.

Just as Harry had suspected, Granger was in danger. Following the high, shrilled scream, the boys found the girl in the bathroom, back pressed against the wall, staring up at the monster in fear.

They have read about the creatures and studied them in History class, but review didn't prepare Draco for the horrible stench that nearly killed his nose on the spot, reeking of sweaty socks that were in desperate need of a good wash. Or the ugliness of the creature. Twelve feet tall, its skin a dull, granitic gray, body lump and thick as a boulder, with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as a tree, long arms that glazed across the floor. One hand carried a huge wooden club that crack open a skull with a single blow.

"Hermione!" Weasley yelled.

The monster that had been advancing towards the girl paused at the sound of the scream, turning his attention over to them.

"Brilliant job, Weasel." Draco snapped.

Before the boy could comment, the troll let out a loud, fearsome roar that shook the room, causing several pieces of debris to crack and drop from the ceiling.

"Get Hermione," Harry told Draco. "We'll distract him."

He was already pushing him towards the girl.

"Come on, come on!" Draco ordered. The girl refused to move, frozen in her place, staring at the troll even though he was no longer paying attention to her. "Come on, you stupid little insect!"

She acted as if she couldn't hear him. She refused to tear her eyes away from the beast. Growling under his breath, he grabbed a handful of her bushy hair, tugging hard, pulling the girl onto her feet, jarring her awake from the shock. Then latched onto her arm, dragging her towards the door.

She screamed again, nearly shattering his eardrum. Gritting his teeth, he turned over to see what gotten her so frightened, his annoyance quickly breaking apart into fear.

Weasley was hauled by waist in the troll's hand, struggling to break free. The boy's wand was deeply embedded in the monster's left nostril, sticking out awkwardly. Unfazed by the ordeal, the troll advanced towards Harry, who was slowly backing towards the wall, raising his club off the floor and high into the air.

Panic built in his chest, strangling his heart. "Harry!"

"Draco, do you remember the spell Uncle Severus taught us over the summer?" Harry called out. "The stunning one?"

He stared blankly at his friend until he saw the calm, determined look in his eyes, quickly catching on.

" _Stupefy!_ " he yelled.

A burst of red light sparked from his wand, knocking the troll by the side of his head. It wasn't strong enough to knock him out, but it did stun him, making him lose his footing and concentration for a minute.

Harry used that confusion to his advantage, pointing his wand at the creature. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The club lifted from the troll's hand, as did Weasley, floating over his head.

Harry dropped the boy gently the on the floor. He used no such gentleness for the club he let fall right on the monster's head. The boys quickly raced over to the other side as the troll fell to the ground with a loud thump.

The children stayed still, watching the creature until the silence was broke by a small whisper

"Is it dead?" Granger asked

"I don't think so," Harry said, dusting the debris off his clothes. "I think it's just knocked out."

"What the bloody hell were they thinking?" Weasley demanded. "Letting that thing in here?"

All it took was the weasel speaking to bring the girl back to her scolding, controlling nature. "I highly doubt that they allowed a troll to come into the school," She pointed to the wand that was still embedded in the troll's nose. "I'd get that if I were you. I don't believe that there's a warranty on wands."

Weasley looked like he was fine leaving the wand where it was. Granger pushed him towards the creature. With a sour look on his face, he kneeled down and tugged hard, slowly tearing the wand from the nostril, dragging several strands of slimy mucus along that coated the end.

"Oh," He grunted. "My wand."

Draco had to wait several moments for his heart to finally go back to a normal pace. Once it had, he whirled over to his best friend and did two things. He first gave Harry such a hard punch to the arm that his fist was stinging when he pulled it back. Then, before the boy could protest or answer back with a punch, he engulfed him into a tight hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him.

"You ever  _ever_ put yourself in danger like that again, I'll gut you, Potter. I swear I will."

"Love you, too, prat." Harry whispered, returning the hug.

Draco sighed both tiredly and happily. Then immediately groaned, dropping his head on the boy's shoulder as a familiar voice cut through the air, followed by several footsteps that burst into the room.

" _What in Merlin's name are the four of you doing here?!_ "

McGonagall stormed into the room, followed by Severus, with Quirrell bringing the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and quickly pressed back against the wall, clutching his heart.

The other two glared at them, their fury-lit eyes focused on the boys. McGongall's glare was pure fire, Severus' ice-cold.

"Explain yourselves!" she demanded.

"I-"

"You see-"

"It was my fault, Professor."

All six heads turned to the girl, stunned by the confession. None were more stunned than Professor McGonagall.

"Ms. Granger?"

"I wasn't present at dinner when the announcement of the troll was made. I-I was a bit preoccupied," There were still faint traces of tears on the girl's face. Weasley looked at them and then away, ashamed. "Ron, Harry, and Draco saved me. If it weren't for them, I'd probably be dead."

"That would a very high probability, Ms. Granger," Severus walked over to the troll that was unconscious. There was a scratch on his cheek from where Draco's spell had hit him and a nasty lump on his head where the club had been dropped. "Seems that my snakes saved your cub, McGonagall."

"Hey!" Weasley protested. "I helped too!"

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'd hardly call wetting your pants, sticking your wand in the oaf's nose, and getting caught helping, Weasley."

The boy glared daggers at him.

"Being as that may," McGonagall said. "I'm very disappointed in you, Ms. Granger." The girl hung her head in shame. "I expected better from you. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor. And as for you three," McGonagall whirled over to the boys. "I hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many first-years could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. I'm rewarding you five points each. For  _sheer dumb luck_."

Weasley grinned, though Draco thought it was unjust for the boy to be awarded points when he barely did anything useful.

"Now off to the bed, all of you. I'm sure you had enough excitement for one night."

Severus glared at Harry and Draco as they walked by him, his eyes still icy, still hard. "I will deal with you two in the morning."

It wasn't a threat. It was a promise, one which the boys were not looking forward to.

The children hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak until they were two levels above ground. Granger then surprised them all as she turned around and rushed into Harry's arms, hugging him tight.

Draco wanted to hex her on the spot.

"Thank you," she said. She pulled away with a soft smile on her face. "You're very brave, Harry."

"Yea," Weasley added. "You're not half bad. For a Slytherin, that is."

 _Imbecile_. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You were brave, too, Ron," Harry turned over to Draco and smiled gently at him, grabbing his hand. "You, too, Draco. I was only able to escape since you distracted him."

Granger looked like it pained her to be in agreement. "Thank you, Draco."

He glared at her, unmoved. "I only came along because Harry needed backup. Thank Merlin, I did. He would have died with you two goons frozen as icicles." The tone in his voice made it clear that the rescue didn't change the nature of their relationship. She was an insect, a complete cockroach in his eyes.

From the look on the girl's face, it was clear he was still the ice-prince with the nasty, intolerable personality.

With that being said, Draco headed off to the Slytherin dorms. He was close to twelve steps in when he realized he wasn't hearing footsteps beside him.

He looked over his shoulder.

Harry was still with the two Gryffindors, talking among themselves. There was nothing unusual about the sight, but it caused sharp needles to prick into his heart and stomach, especially as he saw how they smiled at Harry, like he was already one of them, and how Harry returned the smile with the same warmth.

 _It changes nothing_ , he told himself.  _I'm still his and he's mine_.  _He'll always be mine._

But as he watched Granger take hold of Harry's hand and Weasley place a hand on his shoulder, those horrible words returned, slitting across his mind like a dagger.

" _I only hope Harry realizes he could do better. Much better."_


	9. New Year, New Changes, Same Doubt

Draco had various ideas of how first year would be like at Hogwarts. That he would be sorted into Slytherin. He'd rule his house as the prince he was. He and Harry would keep things interesting with a few pranks they pulled here and there. In some ways his vision wasn't too far from reality. Difference between the two were the changes he couldn't have predicted.

Weasley and Granger being part of those changes.

Halloween was already a dreadful holiday to the young Malfoy heir but after the rescue he hated it even more. His best friend may not have turned into a zombie but did wane from him.

Since Halloween the Slytherin and two Gryffindors became close, practically attached to the hip, forming into an odd but tight group. A group Draco couldn't and didn't even want to be apart of. Harry spent time with Weasley and his friends in the Gryffindo common room. He'd meet Granger in the library to study or talk more about books. At the Hall, during meals, he spilt his time between eating with Draco and their friends and going over to the Gryffindors where he was welcomed with open arms.

He'd never forget how one lunch, after they walked in, Harry gave him a departing smile and ventured over to the Gryffindors side. The Headmaster watched the scene with a smile, the approving sparkle in his eyes leaving a horrible taste in Draco's mouth.

A taste that worsened as Granger sent a smirk his way as Harry sat down, in between her and the weasel.

 _I can only hope Harry realizes he can do better_. Her smirk said that and more. _I knew he could and he did._

He had no idea how close he was to hexing her till Theo had to put down his hand that was grasping onto his wand, hissing at him not to be an idiot.

He tried to ignored the pricks of jealously that bit into him, getting underneath his skin, whenever he saw Harry with them. Whenever he came into their room and saw it was empty. Whenever he'd ask one of their friends where he was and the shrugged response was almost always, "Probably with Weasley and Granger."

He tried busying himself by using the Harry-free time to hang out with other friends, work on homework, read a bit, or write to his parents. He let them know of Harry's strange relations with the Gryffindors and was relieved that the reaction was the same as his: disbelief and annoyance.

He supposed he could have tagged along with them. Harry did extend the invitation to him for study meets and lunch dates. But each time he declined, unable to stand being around the insects for too long. After all, he wasn't lying about what he said to Granger. He may have helped Harry and Weasley save her from the troll but it didn't change anything. She was still an insect to him, one he wanted to squish on sight everytime he saw her or heard her voice. And Weasley was still an idiotic, blood-traitor not worth the dirt off his shoes. And he knew the disdain feeling was mutual from the other side. Still, he hated this. He hated sharing Harry. He already had a hard time sharing him with their other friends; there were times he'd watch Harry closely during his meets with Theo. But this was worse. He had to share his best friend with two imbeciles who were thorns to his sides.

One of whom that was dumbfounded by the fact Harry was friends with him in the first place.

More than once he wondered if he should tell Harry what Granger had said to him in the library. It might be a cheap move to play, but he knew Harry wouldn't see the girl so innocently if he revealed her own nasty nature. But each time he came close, his mouth closed, the fear and doubt tightly coiled around his throat. Though mostly fear. He couldn't risk losing his best friend. He definitely couldn't let the insect think she won.

They weren't the only things he didn't count for. Out all the scenarios he played on about their first year in Hogwarts, none involved a dangerous, mad lunatic who wanted Harry dead.

But there was, and it wasn't just any lunatic. It was Quirrell. Quiet, germaphobe-cautious, stuttering Quirrell who Draco thought could easily be blown away by a gust of wind. The same one who proved that he was a true Slytherin, revealing a sinister plotter underneath the stammering exterior as he lured them to the heart of the school.

Draco didn't remember of that night. He was fading in and out most of the time. He remembered Harry screaming his name as Quirrell hurled him against the wall. He remembered the Dark Lord, or the part of him that was embedded in the back of the teacher's head, asking Harry for the Philosopher's stone, offering him to join his side, saying he could his parents back. He remembered Harry's loud refusal, "Never!" that was as powerful as the flames that engulfed the room. He remembered, right before he blacked out, he never felt more scared or helpless as he did watching the Dark Lord's ashes fly through his Harry and how hard the boy fell to the ground.

He had no idea what would have happened if Dumbledore and Uncle Severus didn't come for them. They were all taken to the infirmary where they were all treated by Madame Pomfrey. He, Weasley, and Granger got out with some cuts and bumps. Harry wasn't as lucky. He was still unconscious as he was placed on the bed, his broken wrist set in a cast. He was too pale, too still, even after Pomfrey treated his wounds.

Draco shrugged off his godfather's hand and stayed by Harry's side, gripping tightly onto his other hand. "No."

"He needs his rest, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore told him, his gentle smile. "I assure you he's placed in capable hands."

The headmaster's smile was returned with a dark scowl. Before Draco could tell the old man what he could do with those capable hands, or better yet where he could stick them, Severus reclaimed his shoulder and gave it a warning squeeze.

"Draco shall leave Potter in Pomfrey's capable hands and retire for the night to get his rest," With a pointed look pinned to him, Severus added, "He'll need it for the great punishment I have in store for him and his friend."

_Oh shit._

With great reluctance, Draco obeyed. Then came back to the infirmary the next morning, bright and early, where he stayed by Harry's side until he had to leave. This continued on for several days until he finally got word that Harry awakened. He couldn't get there fast enough.

Sadly, for him, someone beat him there. The old goat. He hid himself behind the door, listening to Dumbledore explain to Harry that the Dark Lord was gone, but that didn't mean forever. How he showed little mercy to his followers as he did with his enemies such as Quirrell who was left for dead. That the reason Harry didn't only manage to survive but beat him was because of his power, power strengthened by his mother's sacrifice.

"Love, Harry," the old man had said. "The selfless, unconditional love a mother has for her child knows no bound. Her sacrifice is proof of that."

When Dumbledore finally left, Draco stepped away from his hiding spot and entered the room. He was never more glad to see bright yet deep green eyes turn to him, conscious and alert.

Harry barely had time to breath or say a word before Draco flung himself at him, mindful of his cast.

He was relieved that his fierce hug was returned with the same amount of fierceness. "I was so worried about you."

"I was worried about you."

Him? If Draco wasn't so happy that Harry was okay, he'd smack him for being so oblivious.

Harry scooted over, making room for him on the tiny bed. Draco settled himself in, pulling Harry against him. Harry laid his head on his shoulder.

"So does this mean I should say my final prayers to Merlin before you gut me." Harry teased, reminding him of the threat he made after the Granger-rescue.

Draco stroked his hair, thinking. "Not today, Potter," he told him. "So you better appreciate it because I won't be so nice the next time you decide to get us into trouble."

Harry smiled up at him. "You know you're starting to sound like Uncle Severus, right?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, dumbfounded. Harry laughed. His right wrist may have broken, but his left arm was fine. Or was until Draco slammed a hard punch against it.

"Ow!"

"That's what you get, git."

"Prat!"

First year definitely wasn't how Draco imagined, but at least it ended off on a good note with Slytherin winning the House Cup. Again.

But that the was the first school year. Now it was summer, or rather close to the end of summer, which Draco was sad to see slip away, not in the mood for another long year of classes and homework but also didn't exactly mind seeing it slip since a certain person was coming back home. Finally.

"Draco, if you keep pacing like that, you're going to ruin the floorboard."

The young man broke away from thoughts of first-year and returned to the present.

"Sorry, Father." It was strange to open his mouth and hear a strange, deeper sound emerge from it. It's been weeks since his voice had matured and he still wasn't used to the change.

One of the many strange changes this summer had brought.

Father nodded and returned to the _Daily Prophet_. Mother, on the other hand, smiled that strange, almost-knowing smile, like she knew something that affected him but didn't want to tell him. Least not yet.

"Draco, dear," she said. "Harry will be here soon. You're acting as if he's been gone for a year instead of the summer."

A summer too long, far too long. It might as well have been a year. It certainly dragged like it.

Harry had been invited by Lupin to spend the summer with him, in Moscow of all places. Ordinarily, Draco wouldn't mind, despite his feelings for the man, since the two were close. But this visit was different. It wasn't just a weekly visit. It was for most of the summer. Despite the lack-luster location, Harry wanted to go. Father wasn't crazy about the idea nor was Severus. Draco most certainly wasn't. Mother, though, to his shock and annoyance thought it would be fine.

Harry had invited him along, saying Lupin wouldn't mind housing one more person, but he declined. Actually, Mother declined for him, knowing his dislike for extreme cold weather, adding that a summer apart might be good for them.

Draco didn't think so at the time, and the opinion didn't change weeks later. From the moment Harry disappeared into the floo, things have off. Fuzzy. Odd. That was the perfect word actually to describe how he has been feeling since his best friend left: odd. Like his world was tilted. Like something was missing, something small enough not to attract too much attention but important enough for his well-being to be affected by its absence.

Draco wasn't surprised. Even though they've been owling each other and talking through fire-call, it still wasn't enough. He missed his best friend.

Draco bit his lip and looked at the fireplace. Still no Harry.

 _Where is he?_ _He should be here by now._ Harry said so himself that was he returning the day after his birthday. Draco was getting anxious. He knew it. His parents knew it,too, judging by his father's scowl that deepened with his pacing and his mother smiling. Even the simple-minded house-elves knew it.

"Draco."

"I'm sorry, Father." He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to his new voice.

Then again it was hard getting used to the rest of the changes his body went through over the summer. His voice deepened, an odd change but one he preferred to the slight crack he nursed a few days after his birthday. His body stretched out, growing a few inches taller. He was now close to his father's shoulder. And his features sharpened, losing some of the baby-fat chubbiness, though he was a bit peeved with how pointy his chin looked or how big his forehead was. But he was spared the acne, thanks to brilliant genes, so he couldn't really complain.

"The next time one of the boys is called away, remind me to insist the other one accompanies him," Father said to Mother. "For Merlin's sake, Draco, I will spell your feet to the floor if you continue pacing!"

Draco forced himself to remain still. The smile on mother's face widened.

Seeing that smile reminded Draco of another change that happened over the summer. The strange lessons Mother had put him through, ones which consisted heavily of creature research-specifically Veela-and history. Family history. He learned from his mother's side, he carried Veela blood in him. Though according to her, time would tell if he possessed the gene.

_What are the odds?_

Before he could ask his mother again, whether or not the gene was dormant, the floo roared. Question forgotten, a huge grin spread across Draco's face as a he ran over to the fireplace. Just in time, too, as a familiar figure covered in multiple layers popped in, stumbling a bit.

"Draco!" Harry grinned.

"Harry!" He pulled the boy into a tight hug, feeling the world was set back in balance as arms wrapped around him. The scent of cinnamon and tart swarmed his senses. He laid his head on his friend's shoulder and sighed happily.

"I missed you."

Music to Draco's ears. He was happy he wasn't the only one suffering from the separation. "You wouldn't have to if you came back early." Like weeks early.

Rolling those bright-emerald greens, Harry reminded him, "You know I did invite you to come with. Despite what you think, Remus does have plenty of room."

Draco scoffed. "You know how sensitive my skin is. It's too much of a risk."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot how delicate you are." Harry poked him in the stomach, his eyes practically laughing.

A flutter rippled through Draco's stomach, warming his lower region, caused either by the icy-cold touch of Harry's finger or the spark that went off the in the boy's green eyes. For a moment, Draco stood still, confused by the unexpected warmth and flutter. Then he blinked and the moment was gone, taking the foreign feeling and confusion away with it.

Shaking his head, Draco mock-glared and punched Harry lightly in the arm. "Git."

A throat-clearing interrupted their playful bantering, turning their attention to the back. Mother rose from her seat and opened her arms. Harry broke away from Draco's hold to entangle himself in hers.

Draco tried not to notice how cold, how off he suddenly felt with the separation.

"Aunt Cissa."

"Oh Harry," Mother pulled him back and held his face in her hand, smiling at her godson. Her smiled turned knowingly, almost playful, as she brushed back messy locks of hair. "How have you been, dear?"

"Good."

Father put down the paper and came forward to greet his charge. "Harry, I trust things in Moscow were well."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, his voice noticeably and remarkably deeper. "It was a little cold, but still good."

A _little_ cold? The boy was dressed from head to toe in layers. Including a hat.

"That's good. I'm glad-" Father paused, his face souring. "What is that smell?"

It wasn't until Father had pointed it out that Draco noticed there was musk in the air. And not the good kind. It was the type of musk that brought him to that oaf Hagrid's hut. And the musk was coming from Harry.

"Oh," he said a bit bemused. "I was helping Remus straighten out the barn before I left."

"A barn?" Draco asked, incredulous. That's where Harry spent his summer?

"Yes, Draco. A barn." Harry turned to him. "Farm houses tend to have those."

Draco shuddered.

Obviously Father wasn't as charmed either. "Just when I think Lupin can't outdo himself. Why don't you go get settled in, Harry? Wash up."

Harry headed to their room. Draco followed closely behind him.

While Harry unpacked his bags, Draco reached into his nightstand and pulled out a small package wrapped in red that contained Harry's birthday present. He supposed he could have sent it via-owl but he wanted to see the look on Harry's face when he opened it.

 _He's going to love it_ , Draco smiled.

Turning around, Draco was about to call his name. Then paused, taking in what he was seeing. Harry had shed his sweater layers, peeling them off one by one and dropping them onto the floor or bed. He was down to his last sweater, revealing a red-shirt underneath. As he struggled with the last sweater, his shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a line of skin. Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to it.

Downstairs, he didn't really pay much attention to the boy's appearance, caught in the welcoming him back. Now, up close and alone, Draco saw he wasn't the only one who went through changes over the summer.

Harry's voice deepened. Though Draco was still the taller of the two, he had grown himself, expanding up to a few inches. His features sharpened, losing most of the baby-face, even though there was still a hint of innocence that remained there.

And his eyes. Draco wasn't sure if it was possible, but he wondered if puberty could also affect eyes. Harry's eyes seemed more magnetic. More green, more unique, but definitely more magnetic as they turned to him. It was the only explanation Draco could think of to explain the unexpected bout of warmth that churned his stomach as those magnetic eyes focused on him.

"Draco?"

He blinked, breaking free of his thoughts. He blinked again when he realized he was staring.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He cleared his throat, then remembered his agenda. The box was still in his hand. "Happy birthday."

He expected a smile. If it hadn't appeared or been anything else, he would have been insulted. A smiled burst across the boy's face as he unwrapped his gift and took off the cover. But he didn't expect for that smile to be followed by laughter.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Great minds think alike." At the confused expression on Draco's face, Harry unzipped his suitcase and tossed him a small package.

Figuring that it was his birthday gift, Draco eagerly tore through the wrappings and unveiled the surprise. His jaw dropped as he looked at the gift, then to Harry whose smile broadened, and at the present.

It was a simple sterling silver bracelet that was flashy but not over the top to be considered girly. It was beautiful but that wasn't the reason why his jaw dropped. It was the fact it was the exact same present he had gotten Harry, right down to the same engraving printed inside.

_You'll be in my heart_

_Always yours, always mine._

Speechless, he looked up at Harry, who had taken his bracelet off from the box. A flood of emotions hit him, happiness taking lead and overshadowing the others. He felt his eyes stinging but no tears came. A good thing, too. The last thing he wanted was tears to ruin the moment.

He bit his lip and looked at his best friend. "You're mine?"

"Always," Harry smiled. "And you're mine?"

"Always."

He helped fasten the bracelet onto Harry's wrist. Harry had done the same with his, his eyes shining extra bright.

Both times pangs of sparks that burnt like fire shot through him, sending heated flutters down his stomach, as bare skin made contact with bare skin in the process of bracelet fastening.

Both times Draco ignored them, pushing them aside, focusing on the moment and Harry's smile. Though the smile seemed to have worsened the situation, increasing the warmth and speed of the strange flutters.

* * *

Diagon Alley had always been one of Draco's favorite spots in London. It consisted of great shops such as the bookshop, clothing stores, and of course the Quidditch shop where they displayed a new line of brooms; he may have dropped hints to his father on how much he'd appreciate the upgrade. There was also the ice-cream shop they usually shopped at after the shopping was done.

When their Hogwarts letter came in, containing a school list that was longer than the previous one, Father had taken them straight to Diagon Alley to do some shopping. They started out at Madame Malkin's, where they got fitted for more robes and cloaks. Just like last year, Draco got stabbed by her needles. Just like last year, he sneered at the seamstress to watch herself, Harry apologized for him and thanked her for her work, and Madame reserved a smile for Harry and a scowl for Draco.

"Well," Madame had said after she packed their robes. "I see you're still charming," She glared at the blonde, then her eyes moved over to Harry, her look softening. "Perhaps, this year you can rub off some of your manners onto your brother."

Draco sneered at her and pulled Harry out of the shop.

After Madame Malkin's, they stopped at the Apothecary for more potion supplies. Unfortunately. His eyes stung, tears streaming down his face, from the heavy fumes, and he was sure his nose was under a nostril-coma. But he did manage to find a few interesting supplies he planned to use on some of his classmates.

Weasley and Granger being two of them.

"Boys, why don't you go ahead to Flourish and Blotts? I need to make a quick stop somewhere."

The boys knew better than to question Lucius even though they were curious about where he had to go, and if it had to do with the small chest tucked under his arm.

The bookstore was already crowded with people. Mainly mothers, daughters, preteens, and reporters all here to see the "great" Gilderoy Lockhart for his book-signing.

"Unbelievable." Draco huffed as they elbowed their way inside. Countless dark glares were aimed at them and they ignored every one.

"Look, it could be worse."

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry may be Slytherin, but he still had Gryffindor tendencies.

"Harry!"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Harry's smile broadened. Draco's scowl deepened.

Granger, who had grown a bit, though her hair was still a bushy bird's nest, waved at them. Well, more so at Harry. Weasley was by her side, grinning like the idiot he was.

"Good to see you, mate."

_Speaking of worse._

Thanks to the pair's big mouths, Lockhart caught sight of Harry and had his groupies pull the boy away from his friends over to him. He slung his arm around Harry like they were old friends, gaining admirance from the fans, more pictures from the press, and one particularly dark glare from a young Malfoy.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart said loudly. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography-which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded again.

"He had _no idea_ ," Lockhart continued, giving a little shake Harry that made his glasses slip a bit. His hold on the boy was extra tight, which increased the heat of Draco's glares. "that he would be shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

 _Him?_ Draco stared, stunned. From a stuttering, pathetic, crazed follower to a deranged peacock as their teacher. If he had any doubt that the old goat was losing it, this piece of news swept it away.

He wasn't the only one stunned. Harry was also caught off guard by the news. His mouth nearly dropped but he quickly caught it, just in time.

Lockhart sent Harry off with an armful of his entire collection of his work. Harry looked relieved to be free of the man.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Draco smirked. " _Famous_ Harry Potter can't even go into a _book-shop_ without making the front page."

Harry rolled his eyes, but Draco caught sight of the small smile hanging by the corner of his lips. He knew his best friend recognized the playful banter in the taunt.

The same couldn't be said for the little girl who jumped to Harry's defense, glaring at him.

"Leave him alone!"

 _What the hell_ …it didn't take long to figure out whom the girl belonged to or what she was, taking in the bright red hair and freckles.

A Weasley. Nope, even worse. A weaslette.

"Well, would you look at that?" Draco drawled, turning back to Harry. "You got yourself a girlfriend, Potter."

He couldn't explain the odd twinge that shot through him as he said that last comment, but the mortification on the girl's face almost made up for it. Her face became as bright as her hair.

"Ginny!"

Weasel decided to join in on the fun, racing over to them. He pulled his sister against him, glaring daggers at Draco. Granger wasn't too far behind, glaring at him as well.

"I knew I smelt something foul." Weasley scowled.

"Oh, so you're finally realizing you're long overdue for a bath, Weasley?"

"Ron, Draco," Harry warned. "Enough."

He smirked. Weasley growled at him.

"Now, now, now, Draco. Play nice. Although you're not exactly far from the truth."

Father stood behind them, his hands on Draco and Harry's shoulders, his face fixed in a sneer as he took in their guests.

A man with carrot-red hair walked up behind Weasel, placing his hand on the boy and girl's shoulders. "Lucius."

"Arthur."

So this was the idiot Father talked? And not just any idiot but the head of the Weasley clan.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Father said. "All those raids…I hope they are paying you overtime?"

He reached into the girl's cauldron and pulled out a very battered, old copy _of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. He shook his head as he took in the book's poor condition. "Obviously not. What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't pay you enough for it?"

The head Weasel flushed darker than his son or daughter.

Harry glanced back and forth between the two, looking like he was unsure if he should step in. Draco made the decision for him, holding him back and shaking his head when his friend turned to him.

 _But…_ Harry's eyes said.

Draco shook his head. _You remember what Father said? Act accordingly,_ his eyes told him _. You don't want us to get a negative reaction, do you?_

Harry looked into his eyes and then away, thinking on it. He then finally nodded, stepping back.

Draco had to hide his pleased smile, though it proved to be difficult especially as he watched how the elder Weasley was shaking in anger.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." he said.

Like father, like son; both horrible with comebacks.

"Clearly," Father said. His pale eyes strayed to Granger's parents who were watching the scene with nervous looks on their faces, as if they expected a fight to break out. "The company you keep, Weasley." He shook his head again. "And I thought your family could sink no lower. Come along, boys. We're going."

He dropped the tattered book back in the girl's cauldron, not seeing the tongue the weaselette stuck out at his retreating back.

"See you at school, guys." Harry told them.

Weasley nodded. Granger gave a soft smile, waving.

"Bye Harry."

"Always a displeasure, ferret."

"Ron!"

Growling, Draco couldn't get his best friend out of the store fast enough, practically dragging him out. He threw a glare at the pair, along with one to the Weaselette who continued to watch Harry.

If the scene at the bookstore was any indication on how the upcoming school year would be, then Draco wasn't sure if he was ready to see summer end just yet.


	10. Shoots Fired, Holes Punctured

Draco saw that he and Harry weren't the only ones who were touched by the puberty fairy. On the train, meeting the others in their usual compartment in the back, their friends had gone through changes of their own. Stretched out, filled out. Some features were more prominent like Blaise's sharp cheeks, some features involved the backlash of puberty such as Crabbe and Goyle who were stuck with an unfortunate case of acne but grew bulkier, and some features that didn't only apply to the facial or bodily changes.

"What do you think?" Pansy unwrapped the white hair-scarf she tied around her head, unveiling her new cut. Her hair that was once rested on her shoulders now reached her chin, just barely.

Harry smiled at her. "I think it's really nice, Pans. It's the new you."

She beamed, delighted.

"I agree with you, Harry," Theo looked up from his book to glance at the girl. "It is the new her."

The group sensed an insult coming the girl's way.

"A new and sadly unimproved Pansy 2.0. More demanding, more irritating, and ten times more," Theo smirked at her. "Intolerable."

There it was.

Pansy snarled at the boy. "At least I don't have the face of a gerbil, Notts."

"At least I don't have the cackle of a hyena, Parkinson."

It may be a new year but Draco saw that some things like Pansy and Theo going at it didn't change.

By the time the train pulled onto the platform, it was already past ten, making it too late for the welcoming feast. So the first years were sorted quickly by the hat, with Slytherin gaining a dozen new snakes, and people were led straight to their rooms. Since they missed the evening feast, Dumbledore decided that breakfast would be their official welcoming-back, where they were served a large buffet of food and forced to sit through more of his announcements, introducing Lockhart as their new DADA teacher.

"Seriously?" Crabbe asked over the roar of applause the peacock attracted.

"Him?" Goyle added.

Draco nodded; ashamed to see even some of the female teachers were swooning over the man. "Sadly."

"I don't see why you lot are complaining," Pansy said. "He's a brilliant man."

Theo snorted. "And how would you know that?"

"I read," Pansy snapped. Theo snorted louder, causing Pansy's eyes to narrow and flash. "And yes, Notts, in case you were wondering, I happened to have read all his books."

"Of course you did. Why wouldn't you? There are picture books after all."

Snarling, Pansy charged. Blaise grabbed hold of her before she could leap across the table to strangle Theo, wearing a smirk on his face.

"Are you lovebirds gonna stop fighting and start shagging?"

It was hard to tell which one blushed harder, though it was easier to say that it was an even tie on who wanted to murder the Italian. "Shut it, Zabini!"

"Maybe after breakfast then?" Blaise teased. "A quick shag in the storage closet ought to ease the tension?"

Theo nearly choked on his toast. Pansy elbowed Blaise in the gut, replacing his smirk with a pained grimace.

"Damn it, Pans!"

"Be happy I didn't aim lower, Zabini!"

"Some things don't change, huh?" Crabbe said.

 _Nope_ , Draco decided with a shake of his head. His eyes drifted over to Harry who stuffed a large piece of the bagel into his mouth, smearing his face with raspberry jam. Harry may have grown taller but he was still a messy eater.

"You got jam on your face." he informed the boy.

"I do?" Harry put his half-eaten bagel and grabbed a napkin, using it to wipe his face. "Is it gone?"

"Still there."

Harry rubbed his cheek harder, but there was still a stubborn spot that refused to be moved. Close to the corner of his lip.

Deeming his friend hopeless, Draco decided to lend him a hand. "Here, let me."

Draco moved forward, leaving little space between them. He held onto his face with one hand and used the thumb of his other hand to wipe the jam off.

 _Stubborn spot_ , he thought with a slight frown. _And…really soft skin. Incredibly soft._

Threads of warmth flowed through Harry's soft skin to Draco's fingers, slipping underneath, dropping down to his stomach.

It made the job almost difficult. Made his hands shaky. Still, after a few more rubs, he managed to get the spot off.

"There." Even his voice was shaky. He swallowed to bring some moisture to his suddenly dry throat.

"Thanks."

The spot may be gone, but the boys were still close. Draco's hands were still on Harry's face, one hand pressed against his cheek, one underneath his chin. His thumb accidentally brushed against the boy's lower lip, sending a flare of warmth so intense Draco felt goosebumps break across his skin, causing him to shiver a bit.

He looked up. Harry watched him silently, his eyes bright and magnetic. The warmth that was dripping down his chest pooled at the pit of his stomach.

"I…"

"Look at that."

Goyle's voice broke the spell, bringing the dazed boys back to reality. They pulled away quickly as if they were caught committing a crime, their faces hot and flushed.

For a moment Draco thought Goyle was talking about them till he saw what the other boy was pointing to.

A gray and black owl flew into the Hall, skidding across the Gryffindor table, knocking plates and bowls off its path before slamming into a fruit basket.

"Look everyone," Finnegan announced, his loud voice causing the noise in the Hall to defuse. "Weasley's got himself a Howler."

A Howler. The confusing moment of soft skin and strange warmth was momentarily forgotten as a smirk splashed onto Draco's face.

"What exactly happens if you don't open a Howler?" Harry asked.

Blaise shook his head and let out a low whistle.

"Bad things, man." Crabbe said.

"Really bad things." Goyle added.

Harry looked over to Draco, who simply shrugged.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

The Hall plunged into silence as the loud, fury-fired shriek exploded in the air, nearly shattering glasses and eardrums. Heads swerved over to the Gryffindor table where one red-haired, red-faced boy slumped in his seat and backed away from the message as if it were a rabbit dog. Or a lion hungry for weasel flesh.

"HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR? I AM ABSOULTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"

Weasley nodded his head frantically, cowering at the howler.

"And, Ginny dear," the howler turned over to the Weaselette, her tone softer. "Congratulations on making it into Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

The little girl looked as embarrassed by her message as her brother was terrified of his.

The howler turned back to the weasel and blew a loud, obnoxious raspberry before tearing itself into shreds.

Weasley looked like he was seconds away from wetting himself.

"Poor clueless Weasley." Draco said, setting off a round of snickers among his friends.

Harry shrugged, joking, "At least his mother sends her love."

The whole Slytherin table burst into laughter.

* * *

After the amusement of the Howler, the first week of school was calm. Well, as calm as things could be in a magical school.

In Herbology, they had to pull strange plants that resembled human infants that screamed bloody murder as soon as they were pulled from the ground. The shrieks were too much for the Longbottom to handle. He fainted two minutes after the lesson started. The plant Draco had pulled actually bit him after he extracted it, clamping its mouth around his finger and refusing to let it go.

In Potions, Severus showed no mercy to the students, firing question after question like Crucios, snapping at those who didn't think fast enough or whose presence simply irritated him. He was especially merciless to Weasley, whose late-night car-adventures cost the school the Weeping Willow that's been there longer than two decades. A tree that also happened to be one of Severus' favorites.

DADA was a class almost everyone, especially the squealing fan-girls, were looking forward to. Lockhart met Draco's low-set expectations of how class would be like. The first thing he did after they took their seats was quiz them on facts about himself, which-surprise, surprise-most of the girls answered, memorizing the information as if it were the sacred word. Then after he was done with his questions, his huge ego blown up to a gigantic mass, he wasted half an hour of their lives by droning on and on about the adventures and dangers he been through. And if that wasn't draining enough, the class turned nearly deadly when he unleashed a swarm of blue-skinned, hyper rodents that nearly destroyed the classroom and were too wild for the idiot to contain.

They barely escaped with their heads intact. All except for Longbottom, who was grabbed by his ears and hung by the chandelier as if he were an additional ornament.

"I think," Harry breathed after they managed to get through the door. "I miss Quirrell, as odd as that sounds. He may have been a lunatic but at least he knew what he was doing."

Draco nodded in agreement. On the way back, he kept his eyes straight ahead to avoid seeing his reflection in the glass. He knew his hair looked horrible. Those rodents yanked away at it as if it was a toy. Harry had to fend them off with swings of his textbook.

"On the bright side," Harry smirked at him. "at least you got a new hairdo. Free of charge."

"Cheeky git." Draco punched his arm.

"Prat." His friend happily declared, linking his arm through his, not noticing the flinch the young blonde went through as a pang of warmth surged through him.

All too soon the first week of classes and settling in came to an end. Draco already had a few ideas on how he'd spend the weekend: sleeping in late, relaxing, going into Hogsmead with Harry. Reporting to the Quidditch field for early-morning practice was not one of them.

"Wipe the scowl off your face, Draco," Blaise teased. "It will give you wrinkles."

"And I'll give you a fat lip," he threatened. His scowl tightened as Blaise's smile brightened. "It will go perfectly with the black eye I'm ten seconds away from giving you."

"Come on, guys. Let's not fight," Harry said, always the peace-maker. "Blaise, you do not want to get on a sleep-deprived, crabby Draco on your tail. It will _not_ end well for you."

The Italin shrugged.

"And, Draco," the boy continued. "You can't blame Blaise for being a bit excited. He did make the team after all."

"He would have been in it ages ago if he didn't sleep through try-outs first-year."

"You forget my motto, my dear friend," Blaise smiled. "Better late than never."

The rest of the teammates were already there, along with another Quidditch team who marched onto the field. The Gryffindors.

Flint and Wood squared off, Flint smirking, Wood scowling.

"We reserved the field, Flint."

"Easy there, Wood. I got a note," Flint held up the parchment he happily handed over to the Gryffindor captain.

Wood snatched the paper out of his hand and read it out loud to his teammates "I, Professor Severus Snape, hereby give permission to the Slytherin team to use the pitch this morning in order to train their new Chaser." Wood crumpled the paper and looked up at Flint, unimpressed. "You have a new Chaser? Who?"

Blaise smirked triumphantly as he stepped forward.

The Weasley twins were less than pleased. One titled his head back and let out a groan. The other slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead.

"That's not all that's new this year." Draco said as he and Harry stepped forward, standing beside Blaise. He gestured towards the generous upgrade Father had donated to the team.

"Nimbus 2001s!" Weasley gasped. He and the insect came onto the field when they noticed the tension. His jaw dropped at the sight of the new, sleek broom that cost more money that he would see in a year.

"A gift from Draco's father." Flint proudly said with a superior grin.

"You see, Weasley," Draco explained to him. "Unlike some people, my father can afford the best."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," the insect said sharply, glaring at him pointedly for emphasis. "They got in with pure talent." Her glare softened as her eyes landed on Harry. "With the case of one exception."

Blaise glared at her, annoyed. His annoyance, though, didn't hold a candle to the firestorm of anger surging through Draco's body, firing every vein, boiling his blood like hot lava as the dreaded insect smiled at his Harry and Harry returned the smile with a soft, tentative one of his.

Fuming, Draco blocked Harry from her view as he stood in front of her. "No one asked for your opinion," he spat. "You filthy little _m_ _udblood_!"

The girl took one step back, the smile wiped clean off her face as her eyes narrowed, filling with unshed tears.

Draco knew then that his words made their mark like he hoped. And did more than he thought.

Several of the Gryffindors charged, wanting his head. Flint pushed him back while Wood tried to keep order. The Weasel twins were sprouting insults at him left and right. And Harry….

Harry pulled away and looked at him. And it was not a good look. It was worse than a glare. He looked at him like he didn't recognize him at all, his eyes slit, his lips tight.

Before Draco could ask him what was wrong, Weasley intervened, taking out his wand aiming it at him.

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy," he said. "Eat slugs."

Weasley clearly forgotten that his wand was broken. He was reminded as the wand's tip glowed and a jet of green light shot out from the opposite end, hitting him in the stomach, knocking him five feet back.

"Ron!" Granger squealed.

Harry knocked Draco on his shoulder, causing the other boy to stumble slightly, as he ran over to his friend. "Are you okay?"

The weasel sat himself up and opened his mouth to reply, burping out several slimy slugs that slide down his throat.

Most of the Slytherin team was paralyzed with laughter, including Flint who was using his broom to support himself and his second in command who was down on all four, banging his fist against the ground as he howled with laughter. The only one who wasn't laughing was Draco who watched his best friend take the weasel away with the insufferable mudblood without looking back.

"You certainly have a way with words, Malfoy." Blaise chuckled with a shake of his head.

"Shut it, Zabini!" His mind was still on what happened and the glare Harry shot him. The insult was meant for the insect, so it shouldn't have affected Harry like that. Besides, this wasn't the first time he insulted her. Harry may not have liked him insulting her, but he never glared at him for it. So why was this one different?

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Draco-and I very much doubt I am, but let's pretend otherwise for your sake-" At the withering look the young blonde shot him, the Italian tried to remain serious despite the stifled laughter that trickled his throat. "But wasn't Harry's mother a Muggleborn? Just like the girl you called a mudblood a minute ago?"

_What the hell did that have to do with any-_

The thought came to an abrupt halt as realization slammed against him like a slap delivered to the back of the head.

_Oh. Shit._


	11. Desperation, Confusion, all to Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for the sweet comments. Glad you like it

There were two types of worst words.

Words spoken by someone close or far from you that easily cut like knives, slicing across the heart, ripping apart your walls as they tore through you.

Then there were the worst words spoken not by an enemy but by you. Words that didn't faze you (not in the beginning) but was a slap across the face to those close to you. Words that stung them worse than a knife's kiss.

It was almost funny, in an odd sort of the way that was more ironic than funny. He was so sure that the Gryffindors would drive Harry away from him. He knew for a fact that was what Granger has been trying to do. As it turned out, he had done that all on his own with a simple word.

It was said in the heat of the moment. That damned insect got underneath his skin far deeper than before. She made a jab at his flying skills, actually thinking his father paid for his spot on the team. And if that wasn't enough, she was practically flirting with Harry right in front of him.

He wanted to knock that stupid, smug smile off her face. He wanted not only to see her knocked off her high horse but wanted to watch the tumble on the way down. Wanted to remind her she was insignificant. What was a more perfect way than reminding her of her lower-than-low, dirty blood status?

It was a perfect plan. In his head.

And it seemed a perfect plan when he put it into motion. For the first ten seconds. Till Harry pulled away, and he saw the look in his eyes. He looked at Draco like he wasn't his best friend but a complete stranger. One he almost instantly disliked on the spot.

But it didn't fully sink into him that his heated moment did more damage than he intended. Affected more than the insect. It didn't click to him until Blaise spoken.

"… _wasn't Harry's mother a Muggleborn? Just like the girl you called a mudblood a minute ago?"_

It took approximately five seconds for the words to sink in. Once they did, he wanted bash his head against the school's brick wall.

He would have gone after him if Flint didn't reel him back by the collar like he was some sort of fish, pushing him onto the field.

_Okay_ , he told himself. _I can talk to him later. Explain that I didn't mean to hurt him._

Harry didn't think so. He sat at the Gryffindor table for both lunch and dinner that day, giving the rest of the their Slytherin friends apologetic shrugs while Draco got nothing, being ignored completely. He made sure to come back to the room late, when Draco wasn't able to fight off the exhaustion and fell under its spell, and slept in his own bed. He left their room early morning without waking him up.

If that didn't sting, he made sure to keep his distance in class. Pretending Draco didn't exist, ignoring his pleas to listen as he took his seat beside him. By the time class was over and Draco rose from his seat, Harry was already out the door, flagged by Weasley and Granger.

"Just give it time, Draco," Pansy said during breakfast after he came to their table, hanging his head in defeat. "I'm sure Harry will come around."

Draco would have thought so, thinking Harry needed a day or two to himself. But over a week had gone by, and the only thing Harry did at the time was pull away from him.

Just this morning he made sure to wake up twenty minutes early to catch Harry before he left for breakfast, hoping he would be able to clear the air.

"I don't want to hear it, Draco." It was the first time in over a week Harry was speaking to him. The tone of his voice wasn't cold but it was far from the warm, which told Draco where he stood. He still wouldn't look at him.

"Harry, please."

"Not now."

"Harry, please-"

"Not. Now." He slipped through Draco's fingers and was out the door.

Draco kicked his abandoned loafer angrily, cursing his loose lips and that damned insect.

"For once I agree with Pansy. As shocking as that is," Theo said. Draco looked up from his soggy bowl of oatmeal that looked like he felt: depressed. Pansy shot Theo a dark glare the boy paid no mind to. "Harry may be mad now, but it will blow over."

"I agree," Blaise added. "You and Harry not speaking are like these two," He jerked in his thumb towards the brunettes that glared at him. "not going at it. It's simply not done."

"Shut it, Zabini!"

Rolling his eyes at them, Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table where one student stood out with his Slytherin crest. An ache cracked and chipped away at his heart when he saw a smile brightened the boy's face, a sight he hadn't seen almost forever. A second ache, more powerful than the last one, laced with an equal amount of pain and anger, shot through his chest as that same smile broadened to a full-on beam as he listened to what Granger was saying while the weaselette moved close to him. Her hands were close to his, their fingers almost touching. Her eyes bright, face slightly flushed, as she looked up at him.

Draco's body was shaking. His spoon was practically crushed in his hand.

Almost as if he could sense that anger, Harry looked up. The smile was wiped almost instantly as their eyes met.

All too soon Harry looked away. The ache that hit Draco wasn't a simple pang. It was a set of claws that drew clean lines against his chest.

"It will pass in time, Drakey," Pansy said, forgetting how much he hated that nickname. "I know Harry. He won't stay mad forever."

"Yea," Goyle added. "Me and my brother get mad at each other all the time. The fights usually end as soon as they start."

Draco wasn't sure if it was the sight of Granger reaching for Harry's hand or the brother comment that made his stomach turn. Whether it was one, both, or neither, he pushed back his barely-eaten bowl of oatmeal and left the Hall.

He almost thought a green-eyed boy would come after him, sensing how upset he was and try to comfort him like he did when they were little. But he didn't. The ache hurt twice as much.

When Harry went away for the summer, it was like the world dimmed to a washed-out, weaker version of itself, set at a dizzying axis. Draco couldn't remember feeling so off. So strange. That strange, off feeling was nothing compared to the ache that scarred his chest, the pain growing the more Harry pulled away.

" _How he tolerates you, I have no idea,_ " the insect's words crawled across his mind. " _I can only hope Harry realizes he can do better._ Much _better_."

_Seems like he finally did_ , that same treacherous voice from before said to him.

Tears burnt his eyes. The ache wrapped itself around his heart like a fist, slowly squeezing the life out of it.

The rest of the day passed on in a series of classes, all of which consisted of an arrangement that was, to his horror, almost forming into a pattern. Harry keeping his distance, him trying to apologize, Harry leaving before he could stand, and that damned insect attaching herself to his side.

Things started to go in a different direction when it was time for DADA class.

The room was a buzz of chatter and excitement as Lockhart decided to use the classtime to promote the dueling club he was starting, extending the invitation to all the houses. With Uncle Severus as his assistant.

Draco wondered what and how much the man had offered for his godfather to agree to such a thing. Then again, maybe Severus agreed simply because he would have a chance to have some fun with the peacock.

"He has agreed to help me with a short demonstration but I don't want you all to worry," the peacock chirped. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard he felt the veins rotating.

"First we bow," They stood apart from each other and bent down, though Lockhart's was more flowery compared to Severus. "Now we take steps back." The excitement among the eager students built as the teachers straightened up and walked away from each other. "Now on the count of thee." Lockhart said as they faced each other, wands out. He wore a gleeful smile while Severus' face was cool and somber. "One, two, three…"

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Severus thrust out his wand. A burst of energy emerged from the tip, shooting towards Lockhart, knocking the man right off his feet and at the end of the dueling table, landing roughly on his back. A fascinating display of skill that amused almost every boy in the room as it worried every girl.

"Is he alright?" A Gryffindor asked, referring to Lockhart like he was some helpless little animal who had been kicked. It was Granger. He recognized the shrilled squeak.

"Who cares?" Weasley laughed.

After Lockhart managed to get himself up, shooting a smile to Severus that was cool and tight-lipped, saying that he had won that round from pure luck, Severus suggested that it would be better for the students to participate instead of observe.

Lockhart agreed with the idea, his annoyance forgotten. The first student he called was Harry. He was up against a Ravenclaw. Within seconds of the fight, it was clear who had the upperhand. Harry's father was a Auror who thought it was important for him to learn spells and hexes to protect himself. Uncle Severus has been teaching them the subject, along with dueling, for years.

The Ravenclaw, though, refused to go down without a fight, turning this battle from a simple demonstration to an actual duel. Dodging left and right, he flung a stinging spell Harry easily dodged. Before he could make another move, an idiotic student-a Gryffindor he was sure; no Slytherin was that stupid (not even Crabbe and Goyle)-stepped into the fight, thinking that unleashing a cobra would be the perfect solution. Or some sort of joke.

The only thing the snake managed to do was turn the excitement of the room into pure panic, one that intensified as the creature rose itself from the ground, revealing its full figure that was roughly the size of a student, baring its sharp venom-laced fangs to all.

"Stay where you are." Severus ordered.

Lockhart cut in, pushing him back, not seeing the searing-heated glare of Severus' eyes as he tried his hand at taming the snake. " _Orlate Ascendele_."

The spell did nothing-other than flash some weak light that blow up into smoke right in the man's face.

But it made the snake angry, extremely angry. Snarling loudly, causing students to back away from the table, he charged, moving straight towards a Hufflepuff who was frozen at the spot.

Then something happened. Before the snake could get to the student, hissing broke through the air, settling the panic and fear into a hum. It was hissing that wasn't coming from the snake.

The animal directed its head over to the left, as did almost everyone. Harry took slow but firm steps toward the creature, his gaze steady and calm, as words to a slick and foreign language dripped from his lips.

"Is he-" Pansy began.

"talking to the snake?" Blaise finished, just as shocked as she was. As much as everyone was.

Draco was just as stunned like the others, but the only one who wasn't terrified. He was shocked, there was no doubt about it, but he felt something else. Something that was similar to shock, but different, deeper, something that coiled and brimmed heated pressure inside him.

He heard hissing before from the snakes at the zoo, at the pet-shop, and even from Slyther. However, it was one thing to hear it from the animal. It was quite another to hear it from a person who spoke the language perfectly like it was second nature. From Harry.

The hissing flowed from his mouth smooth as silk, almost as fluid as French.

A different sort of ache hit him then, starting at the pit of his stomach, brewing like a shimmering potions cauldron, heating the lower region of his body. He was trembling, his knees were buckling. He reached out for the wall beside him and leaned against it, quiet but labored breaths tumbling from his mouth.

He couldn't pull away. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes were drawn to the boy just as they were when Harry was removing his layers of shirts and he caught a peek of bare, pale skin. The ache grew bigger in his chest, the heat burnt hotter, his breathing became heavier.

When the snake focused all of its attention on Harry, Severus quickly stepped in, waving his hand and vanishing it from sight. The spell was broken, but Draco didn't recover as quickly as the others did, still against the wall. Still trembling, still breathing heavily.

A different sort of tension hung in the room, the silent but deadly type that spread like wildfire, jumping from student to student as all eyes looked to Harry. The Hufflepuff who would have been devoured by the snake cowered away from him, as if Harry was the cobra himself.

Harry didn't look like the fearless solider he was moments ago. He looked dazed and baffled, almost as if he woken up from a dream. He looked scared.

Seeing that unsure, baffled expression did the trick to give Draco the power back of self-control. He moved forward to get him, to tell the idiots that he did nothing other than saving their worthless necks.

Harry stepped off the table and a path cleared for him. Before Draco could get to him, the Gryffindorks were by his side in an instant, Weasley backing people away, Granger leading Harry away, her hand placed on his shoulder.

Draco swallowed the bitter, hard pill of anger, knowing the last thing that would make the situation better is him hexing the girl's hand off. Even though the idea was impossibly tempting.

He hoped Harry would finally talk to him. Harry was upset and they always confided in each other whenever they were anxious, no matter how tense things were. But the demonstration at class did the opposite effect. It drove him further away.

Almost a month went by since the field incident and, after so much aching and paining and frustration, Draco finally decided that it was time to seek out help.

Which was why he was standing in front of Severus' door instead of being at the library with Theo where they were supposed to be studying for Charms. He reached that point of desperation.

"Half-blood prince." he barked at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"Welcome Mr. Malfoy," the painting of his house's founder merrily replied, a devilish look in his eye. "You're looking tense."

Snarling at the picture, Draco stepped inside Severus' chambers. He found his godfather in the living, sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by the piles of essays, a quill dripped in red ink in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

Severus didn't look the least bit surprised to find Draco there but he certainly looked annoyed. "May I help you?"

"He won't talk to me!" Draco exclaimed. "He hasn't talked to me in almost a month and I want it to stop. I can't stand the silence."

"And the reason you decided to come to me about this is because…"

"You're my godfather," Draco reminded him. "You're suppose to help me with my problems."

"Each time I do, a decade is taken off my life," Severus looked into his godson's eyes and saw that stubborn gleam in them, letting him know that he was serious. Sighing heavily, he pointed at the other end of the couch. "You might as well make yourself comfortable, seeing as though you're going to be here longer than a minute. I'll be back momentarily. I need something stronger than tea."

It took Severus a minute for Severus to reappear with a special tea for him and green tea for Draco. Draco, during that time, stared down at his hands that were tightly wringed.

"Out with it, brat." Severus said, cutting straight to the point.

He took in a deep breath and did just that, starting at the beginning. How annoyed-and, yes, jealous-he was when he saw how close Harry became to the insect known as Granger. What the insect said to him in the library first-year and how the words still followed him around. What she said to him at the field, implying he secured his spot on the team with Father's money. How badly he wanted to see her knocked off her high horse, using a word he knew would cut her just as deep as her words did him.

Severus didn't move or even blink once during the speech. When Draco was finally done, he took a sip of his tea and said "You certainly have a way with words, Draco."

He groaned, reaching the brim of frustration. First Blaise, now Severus. "Thank you for stating the obvious."

"Seems to be part of my job description," Draco resisted the urge to snarl at him, knowing whatever he threw at him the grouch would threw it right back. "Harry hasn't spoken to you at all?"

"No," he answered, defeated. "Other than telling me he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Hmm," Severus murmured, taking another sip of his drink. "I am curious about one thing, Draco. Knowing the end results of your actions, would you undo it if you were given the chance?"

"I…"

Severus decided to try another question. "Do you regret what you said?"

The question left him dumbfounded. Did he honestly regret what he said? He regretted that it hurt Harry. He regretted the slur extended over to his late aunt. But did that same regret also apply to seeing how quick Granger's infuriating smile cracked? Reminding her that she wasn't and would never be good enough for Harry? Hurting her the way she hurt him? Draco would be lying to himself if he said yes.

Severus wasn't surprised by the lack of answer. The drawn-out silence said enough.

"I regret," Draco confessed. "that I hurt him. And that the jab also affected Aunt Lily."

"So that was not your intention?"

Draco stared at his godfather, appalled. "Of course it wasn't!" he hotly replied. "Aunt Lily isn't a thing like Granger. She isn't- _wasn't_ ," he quickly corrected himself. "like the rest of the muggleborns. She was unique. Amazing." He remembered how close she and Mother were, practically sisters, sharing those odd private smiles whenever they looked over at their sons. How Aunt Lily was stern about them falling through with their magic but letting them have their fun. He remembered how Father described her that Sunday morning when the Potters first came over for Sunday tea. "A rarity."

Severus nodded his head once. "Indeed she was. A bright witch, one of the finest of her class. One was also kind," A strange look crossed his face as he looked into his cup. "Compassionate. Remarkable. A rarity indeed."

To this day, it baffled Draco that Lily didn't came from the same circles as James. She was graceful, elegant, and possessed the charm and beauty of a pureblood lady. It was hard to believe she came from the same upbringing, shared the same class as the insect.

"I must say, as troubling as it may be for you," Severus said. "I'm proud that Harry is protective of her heritage. If he were to react otherwise, I'd be a bit concern."

Draco couldn't disagree with that. Harry was protective of his parents just as he was of his. Anytime some peasant whispered rumors about his parents or taunted his father, he was quick to cut them down with a few sharp words and hexes.

"There's something else." Draco admitted, remembering he didn't have just one problem.

"Oh?"

The sounds of hissing dripping from a pair of pink lips resurfaced in his mind. Eyes steady and calm; a vivid shade of inhuman green. Soft bare skin brushing against his, sending shoots of warmth down his spine. All which caused his face to warm up at an uncomfortable temperature. He nodded his head weakly as he took a sip of his drink, wishing it was juice or water. Something cold to reduce the burning temperature of his face.

"For the past few…" When did the strange, tingly sensations start anyway? It certainly didn't begin at the DADA class, though that did seem to amplify the feelings. So when did it start? The days when Harry gave him nothing but silence and Draco began noticing the small details of his friend? Since school started and he saw how everyone changed with Harry's features being the most prominent? When there were a few days left of the summer and Draco noticed Harry's changes right off the back after his return when he peeled away his heavy layers? "awhile I've been feeling strange."

"Strange how?"

"More…" He tried to think of a word that would best sum up the strange feelings and one clever enough that didn't make him sound like an idiot. Sadly, his mind couldn't could come up with the right word. "More… tingly."

Sever looked up from his mug slowly, both eyes narrowed, one brow arched. "Draco, do I need to explain human anatomy to you? Do you mean to say you wish to hear about the birds and the bees?"

" _No!_ " he nearly shouted, his face hot as the fire roaring in its home. He'd rather sit through twelve straight hours of DADA with Lockhart. Be forced into an all-day session with the old goat. Hell, he'd even volunteer to be the Gryffindor Perfect for a week. Anything than have that conversation, the sickening talk with Severus.

The man almost looked like he wasn't fazed by the question. Almost. Draco caught sight of the brief flicker of relief that slightly relaxed his face. "I can assume your parents have already covered basics with you?"

Draco gave another weak nod, his face still hot. They've done so in not just one but two conversations, both separately. Both incredibly thorough. Both incredibly, equally mortifying.

"Then you are aware over the next several years your body will undergo changes," Draco nodded. Severus continued. "Understandably you will feel strange. It would concern me if you didn't. Your features change, your mindset will expand-though given the dunderheads I'm forced to teach I wonder if they actually are still stuck on the first stage," He shook his head. "As I said before, your mindset will expand. It will change along with your body. You'll begin to notice certain things. Feel certain things. I believe eroticism would be one of them. It is normal for a twelve year old boy to start experiencing arousal."

Dear sweet Merlin. He was actually talking to him about hormones. Hormones. The conversation may not have been as detailed as his parents' talks but it was just as mortifying.

Correction. This was even worse. The man said eroticism. The word  _arousal_  actually came out of his mouth, for Merlin's sake.

"I understand that," the word came out in a croak. He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose there's a potion you can give me to treat it."

It was a feeble hope, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"I'm afraid not," Severus said. He almost looked amused. "The best cure for dealing with puberty is simply that: dealing. Accept the fact your body is changing. That you're changing. I assure you you'll only make matters worse if you try to fight it."

Well that was utterly useless.

Draco wondered If Harry was this frustrated when he asked questions on puberty. He wondered if he had the talk with Lupin during his time at the Moscow farmhouse or with his parents when he came back. His curiosity dampened when he realized he wouldn't know. Not when Harry was mad at him.

Almost as if his mind was being read, Severus said, "Give it time."

Draco looked up at him.

"Harry has the looks of his father and the eyes and heart of his mother. However in terms of his stubbornness, I think it's safe to say he received it from both his parents. Though I always suspected the stubborn gene leaned more towards Lily."

If that was meant to comfort him, it gave Draco the opposite reaction, worsening his depression.

"But if you really insist on breaking through the silence, use stubbornness to fight against stubbornness. Try to weaken the resistance."

Draco stared at the man until the words began to sink in, forming ideas in his head, lifting his lips into a soft smile.

* * *

If there was any way to break through Harry's walls, it was through his infamous sweet tooth. Chocolate was Draco's choice of weapon, knowing it was his friend's addiction. While any chocolate did just the trick, milk chocolate was the ultimate black widow. Especially the creamy Belgium milk chocolate truffles he knew Harry ate by the pound.

And what went better with chocolate than a fresh-baked treacle tart he got from the kitchen.

When Harry entered their room late at night, Draco was ready for him, armed with his weapons. Perched on their beds he conjured up together into one large bed with bags overflowing with the delicious Belgium chocolate truffles and a large treacle tart that was still hot.

Harry dropped his schoolbag beside him and took a step closer. His eyes looked at the bed covered with treats. Brows arched when he saw the movies Draco had lined on the trunk.

_Beauty and the Beast_ ,  _The Lion King_ ,  _Aladdin_ ,  _Peter Pan_ ,  _Lilo and Snitch_ , and of course  _Tarzan_.

When Harry looked up at him, Draco gave him his best winning smile. "I thought movies would go well with a little midnight snack."

He pointed at the fireplace. Harry followed his finger, turning around and looking up. Above the fireplace was a wide sliver flat-screen posted onto the wall with a sleek DVD machine underneath.

Draco had a winning chance. He had the chocolate, the tart, and the ultimate weapon: Disney. Harry loved those movies as much as he did, especially  _Tarzan_ , which was their favorite.

The thought began to dim when he saw Harry didn't return his smile. Instead he looked at them, and then at the door, already moving towards it.

Annoyance, anger, and fear brewing inside him like a shimmering cauldron, Draco acted fast. He refused to let Harry walk out. He took out his wand and flung it towards the door, sealing it shut with an additional silence spell.

Harry tugged at the handle as if sheer force could beat out magic.

"You can pull at it all you want," Draco told him. "It won't open."

Harry scowled at the door as if it were him, tugging harder. After ten seconds of tugging and getting no result, he dropped his hand but he didn't turn around.

"Look, I'm sorry," Draco said. "I'm really, really sorry."

He didn't get a response.

"I didn't mean to say mud- _what_  I said in front of you. I didn't mean to hurt you or your mother. You know how much I loved her."

Still no response. The door apparently was more fascinating than his face. Draco was at his wit's end.

"Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? Get down on my knees? Grovel? Is that it?"

He had no idea the words turned to action until he found himself in front of Harry, his knees touching the ground, looking up at him.

"Please," he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. "Talk to me. Say something. Anything. If you hate me, then at least tell me so I try to make you not hate me. I'll do anything. Please." He gripped onto his pants.

Harry took in a deep breath and turned back, looking down at him. "I don't hate you, Draco. But I am mad at you. You went too far. You really crossed a line."

"I didn't mean to-"

"You may not have meant to insult me or my mom but you still did. Whether you like to believe it or not, Draco, my mother was a muggleborn. And I'm not ashamed of that. For Merlin's sake, I'm practically one myself."

Draco shook his head. "You're a halfblood."

"Which is only  _slightly_  different," Harry shot. "Say I was a full muggleborn? Would you treat me like shit then?"

"Of course not!" The thought was absurd. "You're different-"

"Not by much."

"Yes, you are," Draco insisted. "You're different. You've always been different. You're mine."

Harry pursued his lips, saying nothing. His silence curled Draco's heart into a ball.

_Tell me I didn't lose him_ , he begged Merlin.  _Please please please tell me I didn't lose him_.

"Hermione was shaky the whole walk to Hagrid's hut. When we got there, she cried."

So his words did leave a mark on her?

"Why?" Harry demanded. "Why would you say that? Why would you do that? I know you don't like her, Draco, but you really went too far."

"What she said to me was just as painful. Even more." So what if the stupid girl cried? Her words still followed Draco around like some sort of ghost.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "What did she say?"

Draco fired a hundred and one curses himself for his inability to house private thoughts. He wondered if this was another side-effect to puberty.

"Draco, what are you talking about?"

He bit his tongue to hold in the words that burnt his tongue, trying to make their way out.

Could he do it? Could he actually tell him what happened? Confess his fears?

He titled his head. Harry watched him patiently.

_If I do…I could lose him._

_If you don't, you will. If you haven't already_

Draco bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood. Then slowly released it. "She said…" He swallowed a hard lump. "She said she didn't understand how someone like you would want to have anything to do with someone like me."

Once the words came out, the rest spilled, flowing out from his mouth like verbal waterfall. Only this waterfall poured harder than it had in Severus' room.

Draco told Harry everything that happened in the library first-year, how jealously flared in his body when he saw them together, how much he wanted to hex her after she told him she prayed Harry would see the light, how the words dug deep into his chest and he hasn't been able to remove them. He confessed to his fear of abandonment and insecurity. How, despite the fact the words infuriated him, he couldn't shake them because there was a sense of truth in them. He knew Harry could do better, and that was what scared him. That Harry would eventually realize that and walk away, leaving him behind.

He had no idea how badly he was trembling till it dawned to him that the floor was vibrating underneath him. Had no idea he was looking down instead of up until it dawned to him he was studying the carpet.

All he knew was that the words were out and there was no way he could take them back.

"Draco."

He swallowed, which that proved to be almost difficult, before he looked up at Harry.

He expected Harry to simply shake his head and tell him that he was ridiculous. He expected him to simply get onto the bed and sleep. He expected to be called a liar, hit by multiple accusations he was making it up, trying to make innocent little Granger look like the villain.

What he didn't expect was for Harry to get on his knees and pull him against him. Draco didn't expect that at all. But after days of silence and lack of contact, he didn't question it, clutching onto the other boy.

For several minutes or so, the two boys stayed like that, holding onto each other like they had little to no time left. The longer he held him, the weaker the ache in his chest became, waning down to a faint throb that soon disappeared.

"I'm sorry."

Confused, Draco leaned back but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way," Harry said. "I'm sorry that I didn't understand. But…why didn't you tell me?"

Draco had played dozens of scenarios of what would happened should he ever tell Harry about his fears. Not a single one featured Harry asking him that question, which caught him off guard.

"I guess because…" Dear Merlin, it was twice in one day he couldn't think of the right words. "I guess because I thought if I told you, it would speed up the process."

"That I would leave you sooner?" Harry asked. "After seven years of friendship?" He looked as though Draco punched him in the gut, stunned but hurt. Seeing that look in his eyes, Draco would rather have been hit. It would have been less painful. "You really think that low of me?"

"No but-"

"You think I'd trade you in for someone else? That would I actually leave you behind?"

The thought made a lot more sense in Draco's head than it did out loud. Out loud, they sounded awful. Ridiculous. They sounded ten times worse coming from Harry's mouth.

"It's just...I…" His mind scrambled to find the right words. To make Harry understand. "I'm a prat. Granger knows it, Weasley knows it, the whole school knows it. Even I know it. I'm a jerk and an arse and a prat and I know you can do better. You deserve bet-."

Harry pressed his hand against his mouth, silencing him. The contact surprised Draco but not as much as it shocked him, sending waves of warm flutters that soared down his stomach like wings. The warmth remained when Harry took back his hand. Difference, though, was the icy prick that stung him when he lost that contact.

"Draco, I need you to understand something. Hermione is a good friend of mine. So is Ron," Harry told him. Draco was ready to roll his eyes until the next words came out of Harry's mouth. "But you're my best friend. You always have and always will be my best friend. That will never change."

"How do you know?" Draco snapped. "How do you know you won't get tired of me? How do I know you won't-"

"Because you're mine!" Harry growled. The words silenced Draco, stopping his rant, effective as a punch. "You're mine and I'm yours, remember? You're my other half, Draco. My…well, everything. Leaving you behind would be like leaving a part of me behind."

Draco's eyes were burning, stinging with tears. He refused to let them fall, no matter how much they burned.

"So I have to ask," Harry said. "Do you really think that low of me? Do you honestly think I would do something like that to you?"

"I…I...I just don't want you to leave me." Draco confessed in a whisper so low, he could barely heard it. These past few days were just a taste of the reality he feared. He couldn't stomach the possibility of it being permanent. He didn't know what he would do without Harry. He was everything to him, his whole world. Harry was deeply entwined in him just as he was with him.

Harry brushed away a tear from his cheek he didn't realize escape. Before Draco could curse himself, the smaller boy smiled at him and said "You're my best friend and my boy, which means you're mine. Always. Remember?"

_"Good," he had said, wrapping his arm around the boy and bringing him closer, keeping his arm at his waist. "Because you're mine and I don't share."_

_Harry's brows furrowed. "That's silly, Draco. I'm not a toy. People don't belong to other people."_

_He may have a point there, as usual, but still…"Even so, you do to me. You're my best friend and my boy. Which means you're mine."_

_Harry lowered his head as he thought it over, taking his time. Draco didn't worry about the length of the thinking process. It didn't matter what Harry said. It didn't matter what anyone had to say about it. Harry was his, plain and simple._

_After what felt like hours Harry lifted his head, looking up at him. "Okay. I'm yours,"_

_Draco smiled, pleased. He knew his best friend would see the light._

_"But," Harry said. "Since you're also my best friend that means you're also my boy. Which means you're mine, too."_

_The smile on Draco's face broadened to a grin. He drew Harry to his chest, resting his head on his hair. "Then it's settled. I'm yours and you're mine."_

_"Always?"_

_"Always."_

It was a contract they made when they were six, sealed with a hug. Draco hadn't thought about that in such a long time.

He looked at Harry. The smile remained in his face as he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the silver bracelet.

"You still wear it?" Draco asked, stunned.

"Of course I do," Harry answered the question with ease as if Draco asked him what was two plus two. "It was given to me by my best friend."

He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but made no move to touch them.

"I'm not going anywhere, Draco. You'll always be mine and I'll always be yours, even when you act like a prat and frustrate me sometimes."

"Git." A slight chuckle came out of him.

"Prat." Harry teased.

Draco smiled, then bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry I was a jerk."

Harry smile turned soft. "I was a jerk back."

"That's true," The smile vanished. Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Draco's smile broadened. "You truly did wound me with your insensitivity." Harry mock-glared at him. Draco smiled in return. "Fear not, Potter. I know multiple ways you can make it up to me."

"Stinking prat." Harry threw a playful punch at his arm. He threw in another when Draco laughed.

The two friends spent the rest of the night lying in bed, filling their stomachs with sweets, killing their teeth with the excessive sugar-load as they watched their movies. They laughed through the scenes that were still funny, were quiet during the somber movies like when Simba walked up to his father's dead corpse (Draco was almost ready to skip forward that scene, knowing it stung a deep chord for Harry) and they sang along to the songs, not caring how ridiculous they sounded as they threw energy and silliness into their voices.

Towards the end of  _Beauty and the Beast_ , Harry let out a small chuckle.

"What is it?" Draco asked him.

Harry snickered again as he ate a handful of the truffles. "You kind of remind me of the beast."

The hot-headed fur-ball? "Excuse me?"

Harry shrugged while his smile widened. "You two are more alike than you realize. You both have the tendency to come out as prats. Tend to speak without thinking it through. And seem greatly possessive."

Draco bumped shoulders with Harry, causing the boy to drop his truffle. "Come off it, Belle," Harry snickered. "Like I told you before, I don't share."

"Well you're going to have to try to be flexible," Harry said. "And remember that no matter how many friends I may make, I'll never forget about you. Okay?"

Draco stared at him, thinking on his words. Finally he nodded. "Okay, I'll try."

"Thank you," Harry said. "I'm proud of you, Beast. You manage come to a decision without getting help from Lumiere."

"Shut it, Potter." Draco elbowed him, getting a laugh in return.

They saved _Tarzan_  for last. They laughed. They sang, though Harry mostly did while Draco listened. Towards the ending, morning was approaching and they could barely keep their eyes open.

Harry let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

"Sleepy, Potter?" Draco teased.

"Shut it you," Harry replied, yawning again. He leaned against the pillows. "I think the sugar high is starting to come down."

Draco turned onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow. He spotted a smudge of chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. "Speaking of sugar, you have chocolate on your face."

Harry groaned tiredly and lifted his hand to wipe it off. But Draco gently placed down his arm and moved forward, using his hand to wipe away the chocolate. When smudge was gone, he didn't pull away. He stared at those pink lips that felt as soft as they looked, colored a soft shade of pink.

He dove in and pressed a quick, light peck onto them, backing away just as fast as he leaned in, stunned by the bolt of heat that shot through his body.

Harry's eyes were wide but for the life of him Draco couldn't read them. A million thoughts could be roaming around in the dark-haired boy's head and he couldn't guess a single one.

Emerald green met silver-gray, staring at each other for what felt like hours before emerald green averted their gaze.

"Goodnight Draco." Harry whispered, rolling onto the other side, facing the window.

It took Draco almost a minute to answer, though he was sure his friend was already asleep.

"Goodnight."


	12. Curious Experimentation, Searing Sensations

If they were friends instead of best friends, then there would be questions. Particularly about how a certain movie-night came to an unexpected close, just like their game with Slyther had gone in an unexpected direction. If Hogwarts was a simple school, then maybe there'd be time for questions and possibly more.

It proved, though, that was the difference between a friend and a best friend. A friend questioned boundaries and which ones were safer to cross, what questions were safer to ask. A best friend already knew the boundaries and understood there was a certain time and place for questions.

He didn't know how Harry felt about that unexpected closing. He was half-asleep when Draco did…well, what he did. But Harry might have remembered how flustered and shocked Draco was by he did, so he never brought up. It was something Draco was both grateful for and a bit disappointed. The ending of the movie-night may have not have been brought up, but it was always there in the back of his mind, recalling the softness of those pink lips, how they tasted just like the chocolate they've been eating, how bolts of heat practically exploded from the brief contact.

Which brought Hogwarts to mind. If the school was a simple school, where they didn't have worry anything other than keeping up with homework and friends and Quidditch, then maybe the two would have talked about what happened. Questions would have been brought up sooner.

But, as Draco came to learn, Hogwarts was no ordinary school, even for a magical one. Danger always seemed to be lurking around, danger which was drawn to Harry.

Last year, it was a crazed lunatic who was trying to prove himself to his master. This year, it was the mysterious Heir of Slytherin. And just as there was a new featured danger for second year, there were also surprises that came with it. Surprises which fell under three categories: bad surprise, good surprise, and unexpected surprise.

Bad surprise: the field incident-which Draco will forever refer to that morning as-involving him calling Granger a mudblood, causing Harry to pull away from him. The incident was a taste of the possible reality Draco had always feared and had no desire to return to. There was also the fact shortly after the second student was petrified, Draco was roped into helping Harry and the imbeciles solve the mystery of the Heir of Slytherin. Normally, Draco was all for helping his best friend, but he also had to work with the weasel and insect, spending more time with them than he ever wanted.

Good surprise: his admittance of his fear of abandonment getting the opposite response he thought it would. He was positive once the confession was out, Harry would pull away from him. To his amazement, that didn't happen. If anything, his confession brought them closer. Even though Harry was still friends with the Gryffindorks (sadly that was the one thing his confession didn't change), he did better manage his time between his old friends and his new ones, balancing them out equally. Not to mention the delicious conversation he had with Granger Draco was proud to say he was a witness to.

Unexpected surprise: puberty. The talks he had with his parents and the brief summary Severus had given him on the subject hadn't prepared him for the painful process. Talking hadn't prepared him for the bouts of warmth that fired across his stomach whenever his wandering eyes took notice of curves and soft skin and lips. It hadn't prepared him for the awkward flustering that burnt his face whenever the focus of his wandering eyes turned around, seeing he was staring at them. When Pansy noticed him watching her adjust her skirt, drawing attention to her thighs, she simply shrugged it off. Course, her focus quickly turned to Theo, who made a comment about her thighs jiggling a bit, which earned him a face-dunk straight into his mushroom soup. When Wood stood up after retrieving his spare broom and noticed Draco staring, the Gryffindor looked as puzzled as disgusted and mortified the Slytherin felt. When Harry caught his wandering eye, he'd stare right back, increasing the temperature of his blushing-hot face. It also didn't explain that while he'd be introduced to new emotions, current ones would be enhanced. Like anger and jealously.

Both which fired in his veins when Granger burst into the Great Hall during the end of the year banquet and ran straight into Harry's arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. She hugged him tightly and Harry beamed brightly while holding her just as tight.

To say that Draco was ticked off would be a _vast_  understatement. Envious hit the mark. Murderous would have played a role if Harry hadn't pulled back. A full minute later.

Harry was given a hug for defeating the basilisk and breaking its spell. Weasley, a head-nod that reeked of awkwardness. When it was Draco's turn, it was just like the troll-rescue all over again. She was stunned he played a part in the rescue, and it looked like it almost hurt her to say "Thank you, Draco."

Just like last time, her words left him unmoved and were returned with a scowl. A scowl that eased a bit, turning into a ghost of a smirk as he thought back to the delicious conversation he walked in on at the library days before she had been petrified.

" _You told Draco you hoped I'd stop being his friend?"_

_It was only a matter of pure coincidence he was searching for a book at the exact shelf where the golden trio were doing their homework on the other side. He pulled out a book and stuck his head out, making sure he wasn't seen, getting a clear view of Harry with the imbeciles. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face when he heard the question. One that widened as he watched the blood rushing to insect's face._

" _I…he…"_

" _Mate, I'm sure the ferret is making it-"_

" _No," Whatever the weasel was about to say, Harry cut him off. He was focused on Granger, who avoided his eyes. "I want to hear it from her."_

" _I…" She turned to him. Whatever she saw in Harry's eyes made her flinch and look away, needing a minute to compose herself. "Well-"_

" _Yes or no, Hermione." Draco knew the no was thrown in for show. Harry already knew the truth. Granger's hesitation said it all. He just wanted to see if Granger would be a noble little Gryffindor and admit to what she did or try to talk her way out of it._

" _I…not in those exact words."_

" _But close enough."_

_She swallowed, looking away. This was even better than watching her get knocked off her high-horse at the field. She was being strangled with her own words._

_Weasley, though, decided to dampen the sweet moment, coming to the insect's defense. "Come on, Harry. Malfoy's a prat. Everyone knows it."_

_Granger nodded. "Which is why I said what I said. You're an incredible person. You can do so much better than him. I simply don't understand why you'd want to be friends with someone like him. It makes no sense-"_

_Harry was already standing up, gathering his things. Draco may be far but even he could see the unmistakable flare of anger firing in those vivid emeralds._

_Seeing that flare caused one to come alive in his lower region, causing his knees to weaken. Draco leaned against the shelf for support._

" _There's nothing hard to understand, Hermione. Draco may have crossed a line, but so did you. And you did so first. You had absolutely no right to say that to him," Harry said. "Yes, he may be a prat but he's my prat. He's my best friend and he's not going away. You're going to have to deal with that. And if not…"_

_Harry didn't finish the sentence. He was that upset. He looked at them both, shook his head, and left the library._

_Weasley looked baffled. Stunned was the only word to describe the look on Granger's face._

_Not so smug now, Little Miss Know-it-all. Draco smirked._

Almost as if the girl could read his thoughts, her lips were fixed into a tight frown.

Second year started off odd and ended strange. Thankfully the summer made up for it. First and foremost, Lupin didn't request another summer-long visit to his Moscow farmhouse, which meant Harry stayed with him. Second, instead of spending the summer at home, they were spending it in Florence, Italy at their vacation villa.

Though they met Mother and Father for breakfast and dinner, the boys were left to their own devices. The boys made sure not to waste a single minute of it. Exploring the city on foot and on those death-machine Vespas Harry insisted were a must. Checking out all the sights such as the breathtaking sights and art. Going to the beach where they swam till they were prunes and tanned under the sun. Filling their stomachs with Gelatos and other delicious food from the various vendors they passed during their exploring. And last night, they snuck into a club and shared their first bottle of Firewhiskey, dancing until their feet ached. Or in Harry's case, until he dropped into a sleepy dead heap, and Draco had to carry him back home.

Thank Merlin, the whiskey was only a small bottle and not a huge one otherwise they'd be hangover. And with neither one knowing the ingredients to an anti-hangover potion, they'd be screwed.

"So what do you boys have planned for the day?" Mother asked after the house-elf brought in breakfast.

Draco looked over at Harry. "Beach day?"

"Beach day." Harry confirmed with a grin.

After the house-elf packed up their things, the two headed out. If there was one thing Draco loved most about private beaches, it was in the name itself: private. Absolute privacy with no intruders. Meaning they didn't have to worry about searching for the right spot to lay out their stuff in the overpopulated sea of beach-goers. They didn't have to worry about people watching them or being exposed to cringe-worthy sights his mind would have a hard time erasing. And having a glorious ocean all to themselves.

One of the many perks to being a Malfoy.

After two straight hours of swimming, splashing each other with gigantic waves, and dunking each other deep into the water, Draco exchanged fun in the water for a nice tan under the sun.

His eyes cracked opened when the sun was being momentarily blocked. He looked up. Harry smiled down at him as he moved across the towel.

"Hope I'm not blocking your view, old man." Harry sent a quick smile his way as he settled beside him, lying down on the towel.

His birthday had recently been a few days ago, making him officially a teenager. "I'm only older than you by a month."

"Still an old man." Harry smiled.

"Git." He lightly kicked his ankle.

Smiling, Harry laid his head on his hands and closed his eyes. Drips of water rolled down his body like sweat. Each drop that fell glistened and made Draco's stomach tumble.

The school year may be over, but the strangeness of it still followed him.

At thirteen, Draco decided there was nothing more horrendous than puberty. It was more horrible than the mountains of homework teachers assigned them during the school-year. It was something he was sure rivaled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in villainy

He hated how powerless he was to the changes that plagued his body. How they changed things such as his perception of the world.

Before things were simple. Now? Everything was so weird.

Like now. His eyes decided to wander and now they were stuck, watching the beads of water roll off his best friend's body, heart pounding. When the last drop disappeared, his eyes traveled up, noticing Harry's lean frame, his collarbone, over his face that sharpened to early maturity but still had traces of childhood innocence, and finally to his lips that looked soft and colored a light shade of pink.

Draco had no idea how long he was staring until it occurred to him his name was being called for the third time in a row. His eyes were still watching the boy's pink lips. "Huh? What?"

Harry propped himself up with his elbows. Concern shone in those familiar green eyes. Draco forced himself to remain calm, despite the weird sensations stirring uneasily in his stomach as Harry's eyes narrowed a bit. "I said, are you alright? You look flustered."

The moment the word "flustered" left his best friend's fascinating lips, Draco felt the blood rushing to his face, coloring his cheeks. For the millionth time he wished his skin color wasn't so fair. "I'm fine," he said, though the words sounded weak even to his ears. He cleared his throat and pasted a smile on his face, one that became more genuine as Harry returned it. "Just glad second year's over."

Harry grinned. Draco wasn't surprised. The year may have been strange for him but for Harry, it was rough and hectic. Most of the students thought that he was the Heir of Slytherin after the snake incident, treating him like some kind of leaper. "Me, too."

He reached over for the cooler they've brought along with them, pulling out a green apple. Draco felt his stomach drop all the way down to his feet before pushing itself back up to its' rightful place as those pink lips curved around the apple, sharp teeth biting into the fruit. Pressure built down south of his body from hearing the soft but unmistakable moan that buzzed from Harry's lips as he swallowed the bite, watching the fruit slide down his slender throat.

 _Good God._  Draco forced himself to remain calm, as if watching Harry eat an apple didn't make him jumpy.

Harry took another bite of the apple, one which produced the same soft moan, and offered it to Draco.

His left hand clutched tightly onto the towel. "No thank you."

Harry seemed surprised for a moment, but didn't question the refusal, shrugging it off easily and continuing to eat. All while his best friend was struggling with himself. Struggling with his eyes that continued to watch Harry's lips move, his face that continued to burn against his better judgment, his body that continued to churn the strange prickling feeling.

The awkwardness of puberty extended over to their friendship. Everything was the same but at the same time it wasn't. Yes, they were still best friends. Yes, Harry was still his and vice versa. And thanks to his confession, they were closer than they were before. Yet the relationship was tinged with a tense, rocky edge. Moments like this were proof of that. Since last summer, Draco had noticed the sudden shift in the air. A shift that commenced the second he caught sight of Harry's pale, bare skin while he was peeling away his layers of shirts. Since then, a war has been waged between his mind and his body for control whenever their hands brushed against each other and Draco felt that pull in his stomach. Whenever they hugged and a part of him wanted the moment to last longer, feeling so cold and almost empty when Harry broke the contact. Whenever their eyes met and that strange prick grew stronger in both volume and warmth.

 _This is ridiculous_. Draco scowled.  _It's only hormones. Stupid, evil little buggers._

Severus' words resurfaced in his mind.

" _The best cure for dealing with puberty is simply that: dealing. Accept the fact your body is changing. That you're changing. I assure you you'll only make matters worse if you try to fight it."_

At the time Draco scoffed at the words, finding them useless. And now? He was beginning to see some logic in his words.

Puberty was an evil that couldn't be defeated. He was smart enough to realize there was no point in fighting against it, not when it already took over. He accepted the fact there was nothing he could do other than let Mother Nature have its' evil way with him. He could even accept the possibility that he was attracted to both sexes. However, what exactly should he do about the strangeness between him and Harry?

He stared at those pink lips, noticing their nice shape and soft appearance. He remembered how soft they were when…that thing happened. Course, it happened so fast, it was hard to decide whether it actually happened or if it was all in his head.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" He took another bite of his apple, one that was bigger than the last one.

Draco, watching this, felt his cheeks warming up. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as casual as he could be. "Have you ever thought about experimenting?"

If Draco wasn't focused on going an answer, he could have taken a picture of how flushed Harry looked, those captivating greens widening at the question. He stopped at mid-bite, his eyes darting over to Draco. "You mean kissing?"

Heart pounding, Draco nodded. "With both sexes."

Warmth that had absolutely nothing to do with the sun flooded the boy's face, coloring his cheeks a bright shade of red. The color seemed to intensify when he looked up at Draco and quickly looked down at his apple, determined to keep his gaze there. Draco was pleased to see he wasn't the only flustered one. He was pleased more at the fact he was the cause behind Harry's flustering. "Well..sometimes."

A wave of pleasure washed over Draco.  _Casual_ , he reminded himself.  _Remain casual._  "We could do it. Right now."

"You mean with each other?"

"No, with Uncle Sev," Draco ducked away from the apple-core Harry tossed at his head. "Yes, with each other, you silly git. We're all alone. It's not like anyone will see us."

The more Draco thought of the idea, the more he liked it. Since puberty struck him, thoughts of Harry with his pale skin and soft lips had been swimming across his mind. Maybe if he finally gave into curiosity, the strange thoughts would end and things would go back to normal.

Or as normal as things could be for two best friends just entering adolescence.

"Won't it be weird though?"

Harry's words stopped him cold like bucket of ice-water poured over his head.

Of all the questions Harry had to ask, that was one question Draco wasn't prepared for. Or one he expected to sting as much. "Why would it be weird?"

"Well…aren't we too close for that?" At the confusion written across Draco's usually mischievous face, Harry further explained. "Well, we've been best friends for a long time. Your parents treat me like a second son. And people say we act more like brothers than friends."

 _Brothers?_  Draco was amazed with how a simple name could cause such a deflation in his body, an odd, almost-annoying deflation.

It wasn't the first time the word have been thrown at them. Madame Malkin used the word both times they visited her shop for new robes, asking Harry to keep his "brother" under control. McGonagall had thrown word around, too, along with Granger and even their friends. Yes, they were close. Possibly even closer than normal best friends were. It was simply the way they were. Wherever one went, the other usually followed. They were rarely apart, and if they were they were quick to change that. And he suppose, given their close bond and what Harry said, with all intents and purposes they were like brothers.

Still, Draco hated the word. At least when it came to them. It sounded off. Not just off but wrong. Like a pair of shoes that were your exact size, in the right style, but still you felt uncomfortable when you slipped them on and had to walk in them.

"It's not like we're blood-related. It would only be weird if we were." Not that they were actual brothers if you asked him. "Besides," he added. "Like you said, we're best friends. Who better to practice something new with than someone you already know and trust?"

"True," Harry agreed, though a bit warily. "And we have kissed before."

 _Twice actually_ , an unwanted voice chimed in. Perhaps the peck should be counted as a half, but it had happened so fast Draco felt that it shouldn't. "Which is why it would be perfect. Even if you do have a girly-mouth, Potter."

"Shove it, Malfoy. At least I don't carry around a pocket-mirror to check my reflection thirty times a day."

"Git." Draco socked him in the arm. Harry laughed, returning the favor to him.

Harry decided to satisfy curiosity. With a slight nod, he sat up. Draco followed his example, facing him. He stood still and waited patiently for Draco to make the next move.

Draco swallowed a nervous lump that lodged itself in his dry throat.

 _Come on, Malfoy_ , he told himself.  _Don't be such a puss_. This was his best friend, someone he trusted above all others.  _Someone_ , his subconscious reminded him,  _had kissed already_. Twice. So why was this time so difficult? Why was he hesitating? Why, for the love of Merlin, couldn't he move already and put an end to his annoying hormones instead of thinking?

Goddamn puberty! They made things difficult. They made no sense. They-

Draco's stream of thoughts came to a halt as Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips against his.

Great. Merlin.

Draco closed his wide eyes, lulled by the familiar sensation that flooded through their joint lips, spreading throughout their bodies, wrapping around them protectively like a warm cocoon. Just as he suspected, Harry's lips were still soft. Incredibly soft. Warm, too, like a nice cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. And they tasted like apples. For a few moments, the two friends stayed like this, upper bare bodies pressed close together, lips entwined, sharing breath with one another as they took their time with the kiss. Almost as if they needed to familiarize themselves with the taste that felt entirely and painstakingly new, despite the fact this wasn't the first time they were in this position.

_Mine._

Harry was the first one to break the contact, easing back slightly to catch his breath. A sound emerged from Draco from the loss, almost like a whimper. Dazed, he leaned forward to the other boy as if there was an electric current between them, drawing him to Harry.

When their lips reconnected, both sighed as if they could breathe easier now. Whenever Harry pushed forward, Draco welcomed it, feeling like he was falling and flying at once. Whenever Harry pulled back, Draco followed him, not wanting the moment to end just yet. Harry kept leaning back and Draco followed him. It wasn't long before Harry was laid flat on the towel with Draco on top, their bodies pressed, curves and angles fitting easily into each other like pieces to a puzzle.

If either one felt discomfort, they didn't show it, falling deep under the spell of their joint lips. Harry laid his hand against Draco's cheek. Draco's fingers found a new home in Harry's hair, brushing against the wild, still-damp curls that were smooth to the touch.

_Mine._

A noise, a moan of all things, broke through the silence. Where it came from, Draco had no idea. It could have been either one of them, or maybe they moaned at the same time. It didn't matter. It wasn't important. Nothing was more important than this moment, this feeling, this warmth. Delicious, addicting warmth.

Warmth that quickly exploded into flames as Harry's tongue slipped through his mouth and brushed against his tongue, igniting a fire that traveled down to Draco's center, uncontrollable and scorching fire.

 _MINE!_  The shriek was as wild, as desperate as the flames that licked every cell in his body, practically eating him alive.

With a gasp, Draco pulled back, mouth taking in needed gulps of air, mind spinning from what had just happened.

He certainly didn't remember anything like that when they were younger.

"Well," Harry said after a painfully long minute passed between them, the taint of awkwardness looming over them. "That was interesting."

Unable to trust his loose, burnt tongue from slipping, Draco nodded.

It took almost five whole seconds for Harry to look at him. His cheeks were two bright splotches of red. As bad was it, Draco was happy to see he wasn't the only one suffering. "So…"

"Yea…"

The looming awkwardness grew while the silence lengthen, stretching from seconds into minutes. Draco didn't remember anything close to that when they were younger. Back then, after they've kissed, they would stare at each other for a moment or two before they laugh and continue to where they left off. Now, it was hard to look each other in the eye without their faces burning up.

Draco wondered if Harry was right. Maybe it wasn't a good idea for them to try it. After all, when they were kids, they didn't realize what they were doing. To them, it was just another thing for them to do. Now evil puberty came by and made one more thing complicated.

"For what it's worth," Harry said, breaking the silence. "You…did well."

"Thank you," Draco nodded stiffly. "You, too."

"And it could have been worse."

Draco arched a confused brow. "How so?"

"Well, for one, you could have snogged Ron."

_WHAT!?_

Ron? Ron as in Ronald Weasley? The weasel?

It was the second time in a row Harry's words hit him like a douse of ice-water. Only this time, the water was disgusting as it was cold.

Stunned, Draco met his friend's eye, watching the glimmer of mischief dance across those emerald greens, his shock morphing to murderous anger. Harry saw the emotions shift in his eyes and wisely used the time to rise from his spot and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Unfortunately for Harry, Draco was the faster runner. "You better run, Potter, because I'm going to kill you when I get my hands on you."

Harry's laughter tore through the air, and, Draco, despite his anger at the joke and the disgusting image that joke caused, smiled.


	13. New Questions, New Feelings, Old Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments. Since you guys have been so sweet and I greatly need cheering up, I'm treating you to 4 times the chapters. I'd greatly appreciate it if you can comment/show love on each one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments. Since you guys have been so sweet and I greatly need cheering up, I'm treating you to 4 times the chapters. I'd greatly appreciate it if you can comment/show love on each one

Days in Florence flew like seconds, caught in a whirl of beach, sight-seeing, delicious food-tasting with gelato being the main snack/course, and trips to popular clubs in the city where the two friends split bottles of Firewhiskey and danced until they dropped. Well, in Harry's case, he dropped. Draco, the steadier of the two, carried him home, usually wearing that smug, self-pleasing smile Harry would knock off his face if he wasn't so drained. He had to settle with a death glare instead, though the only thing the look seemed to do was widen that annoying smile.

Overall Harry wasn't surprised by how quickly the summer was going. His mom once said time always flew by, especially if one was enjoying themselves so much that they didn't bother keeping track of it. He didn't realize though how quickly time flew until one morning, bright sunlight pouring from the wide windows and shining on his face, a sleepy green eye cracked open and was greeted by a surprising sight.

Hedwig was perched on the window still, along with Ron's owl and a chocolate-colored owl. Each bird carrying a bundle of packages and presents.

Seeing her owner was awake, Hedwig let out a cherry hoot, ruffling her feathers, as if to say  _happy birthday_.

Smiling, Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes, grabbed his glasses that were rested on the nightstand, placing them on, and got off the bed.

He started with the chocolate-brown owl on the right, recognizing her as Moony's owl. After he stroked her head, he took the envelope clasped in between her claws, breaking the red seal.

Two things fell from the envelope.

The first was a picture of him as a toddler, maybe two or three, looking up at Moony who met his smile with a grin on his own, his fingers reaching for the man's chin.

The second was a letter.

_**I suppose what I'm about to say would fall under the Old Age category. Actually I know it will, but I'll still share it with you nevertheless.** _

Harry stopped reading for a moment to have a brief chuckle. Moony and Old Age practically went hand-in-hand.

_**If one thing rings true about life, it's that fact time truly flies. I imagine you must feel that way with only a month left of summer before you and your friends have be to back on Platform ¾. But I mean that statement in a different way. It seems like yesterday your mom burst into my apartment, beaming with excitement, practically glowing as she told me she was pregnant with you. Then after a few (or painfully-long, according to James) months, I was given the great privilege to hold my pup. And now my pup is thirteen. Officially a man. Time truly does fly, but I'm proud to say I was there to witness your growth, even though I wish I could have been there more. Nevertheless you've turned into a fine man, pup, and I know your parents would be so proud of you.** _

Harry's smile withered for a moment, needing to take in a deep breath to compose himself. He then continued reading, seeing there was only a little left.

_**And before you start to wonder, no, the picture is not your gift. I plan to give it to you myself when I next see you.** _

_**Until then, pup. All my love,** _

_**Remus** _

"Thanks Persephone." He stroked the bird's head.

She hooted once and flew off.

Ron's owl's head and eyes were spinning, as if he went through several storms before he finally reached his destination. His wings were speckled with sand.

The reason for the sand was explained though the postcard Ron sent him, the picture of his family dressed from head to toe in layers, posed in front of an Egyptian pyramid. Attached to the postcard was a letter expressing his friend's excitement over the sights he had seen, the food he tasted that fell between spicy and stomach-burning, the news he would be able to get a new wand, with some complaints threw here and there. How Percy was being a twat, Ginny annoying him with her insistence of following him around and asking questions about Harry, and Hermione spoiling the vacation by sending him reminders on finishing his homework. For Harry's birthday, he sent him a pocket Sneakoscope, expressing his disbelief in the vendor's words that it was accurate, but figured it would be a nice gift for him.

"Thanks, boy."

Giving a hoot, the bird flew off but not before crashing into a nearby tree.

Shaking his head at the bird's klutziness, Harry saved the best for last. Hooting to her owner, Hedwig dropped the small package from Hermione in front of him before she flew over to her post, curling into a comfortable position and falling asleep within seconds.

Hermione sent a letter along with her present, which was a book from a popular Muggle series she gotten him into. In her letter, she wished him a happy birthday, making a small joke that one could never go wrong with a book for a gift. She shared with him the adventures she was having with her family in French; thanking him for the map he gave her that pinpointed all the stops and sights she needed to go to. Along with her excitement about the upcoming year, she was a bit miffed she was required to take Divination and added a personal request.

_**Excitement seems to follow you around, Harry. Please know that I'm not making an accusation. Only an observation. This year I'm hoping third year won't be quite as…how shall I put this…lively.** _

The request may come across as snobbish to most people. Then again most people didn't know Hermione the way Harry did. He recognized the concern hidden within the message.

Perhaps excitement-or danger if he was wanted to go straight for the jugular-seemed to follow him. It certainly was attracted to him, but it wasn't like he went looking for it. It usually found him.

"I could smell the weasel's parrot even in my dreams. Not to mention his jerking he likes to call flying woke me up."

Rolling his eyes half-heartedly, Harry turned around.

Draco propped himself up on the bed, leaning against the headboard, his eyes dazed with sleep and hair a mess of tangled blonde. Harry was tempted to capture the moment to get back at his friend for all the times he made fun of his hair. However, he also knew it would be the last thing he did before Draco killed him.

"If he can't give the bird a bath, then he could at least camouflage his stench."

Harry's left brow arched slightly as he asked, "If I said my birthday wish was for you to get along with Ron and Hermione, would you grant it?"

Draco pursued his lips, thinking about it for a moment. "I'd say that wish would sooner come true the day Uncle Sev dresses in bright colors."

"What? Like blue?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of hot pink."

The idea of his solemn uncle dressed in a bright color, a startling shade of pink, was so surreal Harry had to bite his tongue to hold in his laughter.

One look into his best friend's eyes loosened his grip on his self-control, causing bouts of loud laughter to pour out. Draco joined in, laughing just as hard.

Draco took in a shaky breath to calm himself down, wiping a tear from his eye. When he was finally done laughing, he rose from the bed and joined Harry by the window, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Happy birthday." He smiled.

"Thanks." Harry said. "You know I have to say I'm surprised."

"At what?"

"That you didn't give me your gift first." It was another tradition between the two. At the stroke of midnight, the gifter would pounce on the birthday boy, shaking him awake, and shove the present right under his nose. It was one of the only times Draco didn't mind waking up early.

"I was planning on it," Draco said. "Then it occurred to me. The best is always saved for last."

Possibilities of what Draco might have gotten him ran through his head, filling him with excitement.

Harry broke off his train of thought when he noticed how Draco looking at him. Carefully, intensely, as if he was studying him.

A simmer began to stir in the pit of his stomach, an uneasy but heated simmer that burnt hotter as Draco stepped closer, leaving little distance between them.

"Dra-"

The blonde leaned over and kissed his forehead. It was a simple gesture, one they've done multiple times. Yet, it was different this time. The kiss made heat flare through his body, starting with his stomach and spreading to his toes. It made him hold his breath from the moment Draco leaned in to when he pulled away.

Harry had no idea he was holding his breath till he started to feel light-headed.

Draco's mouth quirked in amusement, as if he could read his thoughts. His eyes took on a bright silvery hue, glowing like stars.

Before Harry could question himself, Draco blinked once, glowing silver going back to clear gray.

"Let's head down to breakfast."

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts, sure that his mind was still dazed from sleep. "Yea. Sure."

Draco smiled, patted his shoulder, and led him to the door. The whole walk to the dining room, Harry tried to push aside the strange bolts of warmth that shocked him when Draco touched him.

During the breakfast fest with Dobby serving not one but five different types of treacle tarts, filled to the brink with delicious stuffing, more presents flew in via owl or through the floo. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Nissa gave him clothes and books, their Slytherin friends sent various gifts that ranged from a broom-kit to a basket of sweets, Uncle Severus sent him several books on herbs and pensieve.

"There's also one more gift." Uncle said.

"One for both of you." Aunt Cissa added with a smile.

The boys were intrigued; curiosity turned to excitement as Lucius handed Harry a parchment. Draco leaned in closer to him. Eyes skimmed the contents of the paper, widening as the main picture set in.

"You're giving us the villa?" Harry breathed, amazed.

"Not quite," Lucius corrected. "The villa will be for the family but a second villa was made. A bit smaller but should be comfortable enough for the two of you." He took a casual sip of his tea, oblivious to the boys' bright smiles. "I figured why not, given how much you seem to enjoy Florence."

"Truth be told, Paris is more my speed." Draco said.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry jabbed Draco in the ribs.

"Make me." he teased.

The parents/guardians had their usual reactions whenever the boys bickered. Lucius rolled his eyes. Narcissa smiled that strange, small smile.

"As I said," Lucius continued. "It's a gift to you both. However you can also see the gift as a reminder."

"Of what, uncle?" Remembering his pureblood lessons on etiquette, Harry quickly inserted, "If I may ask."

"Reminder that I'm pleased with your progress at school. The two of you are at the top of your class and I expect that to remain unchanged,"

Harry smiled. Draco nudged him, wearing one of his own.

"And hope that I won't be getting another letter from the school saying my son and my ward got themselves into trouble. Again." Smiles froze as the words came out.

"To be fair," Draco said. "Harry's the one who hurls himself towards danger. I'm completely innocent."

Innocent his arse. "Traitor."

Draco smirked.

"Nevertheless," Lucius cut in, his voice firm. "I'm expecting this upcoming year not to be quite…lively."

"You and me both, Uncle." Harry muttered under his breath.

As if Draco caught word of his murmur, he sent him another smirk. 'Course the smirk faltered when Harry delivered a hard kick to the boy's shin.

Watching their bickering, Nacrissa's smile widened just a bit more.

Draco didn't give Harry his present after breakfast. He wanted to wait till later on in the day. He did, though, surprise Harry with a proposal. Since it was Harry's day and they were a number of days they had left in Florence, along with a number of things they have yet to do, he got to choose what they would do.

Draco didn't think it was too outrageous for a proposal. In fact, he credited himself for being so clever. He didn't suspect his best friend to be an outrageous man with an even more outrageous imagination.

"You are completely out of your mind if you think I'm going through with this, Potter."

"Scared, Malfoy?" It was rare seeing Draco so flustered-or in this case downright terrified-and Harry was enjoying every minute of it.

Before Draco could cut him down with a remark, someone beat him to it.

"Are you boys gonna keep gabbing or start parasailing? I'd like to know because I'm wasting gas just sitting here."

Harry looked over his shoulder to give the driver, a heavyset Italian man named Nico, a smile. Draco sent him a withering look that was passed over to Harry. The heat of his glare was cooled by the trembling of his knees.

Harry tried parasailing a few times. The rush wiring his system, the adrenaline pounding in his heart from being up so high, suspended by straps and bands, gave him the same excitement he felt when he was flying his broom. However the two did differ. Flying on a broom, you were in control. Parasailing, your neck was on the line of the wind, the security of your straps, and the speed of the driver.

It was one of the reasons why Harry loved it so much, and why he often did it alone. It was also one of the reasons why he was using Draco's proposal of choosing the day to his advantage.

And one of the reasons why Draco looked like he regretted coming up with that proposal.

"You did say," Harry reminded him. "I got to choose what we did today."

"And I was thinking more along the lines of visiting more sights. Like Santo Spirito, the Ponte Vecchio, or the Historic Centre of Florence."

"We've already been to the Santo Spirito. We went to the Ponte last Thursday. The Historic Centre was one of the first places we visited when we came here."

Draco scowled him. "Careful, Potter. Your smartass Gryffindor side is showing."

Harry laughed, pushing himself off the side of the boat he was leaning against. "Well, my parents were Gryffindors. And if I wanted to keep family tradition, I could have become one."

"But you didn't."

" _I think Mom and Dad would be fine with whatever house I got into. Gryffindor's not bad but," Harry smiled up at him. "It doesn't have my best friend. Even if he can be a prat most of the time."_

Harry hid a smile to himself as the memory raced through his mind. He looked up and saw he wasn't one reminiscing, judging by scowl on Draco's face that chipped away into a small smile.

"You're right," Harry admitted. "I didn't." He stepped closer to Draco and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at his childhood friend. "I guess I found something better in Slytherin."

Draco looked just as stunned and bemused as he did during their first night at Hogwarts.

Harry closed the distance between them and hugged him, comforted by Draco's familiar scent that smelt of apples.

Draco hugged him back, enjoying the soft moment.

A moment that was quickly broken as Harry clasped the harness and pushed him back, causing him to stumble.

"Go!" Harry called to the driver.

"Potter-" Before Draco could grasp was happening, Nico pressed hard against the gas pedal. The boat took off with a roar, and Draco took off into the sky with a loud shriek.

He rose higher and higher until he was five hundred feet over their heads.

"Your boy's got some mouth on him." Nico grunted, referring to the innumerable-and  _loud_ -profanities Draco dropped from above.

Harry grinned as he looked up. Draco was holding onto the harness for dear life, legs kicking wildly as if they could slow down the speed of the wind, shrilled curses dropping from his lips like bombs.

"WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, POTTER, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"

"It's one of his charming perks." Harry told Nico. He grunted again, with a smile on his face, shaking his head at Draco and then turning his attention back to the front. Harry waved up at his best friend, who continued to curse him off. He then remembered about the camera he shoved into his backpack before they left.

_I know there was a reason I brought it._  He smiled to himself as he kneeled down and retrieved the camera from his bag. Standing up, he zoomed the frame in to get a clear view of his friend. "Smile pretty for the camera, Dray."

"You're dead, Potter!"

"And you're so pretty up there, Malfoy." He smiled innocently.

Draco scowled at him, his gray eyes sharp daggers.

Despite his shrieking, Harry was sure Draco actually had fun parasailing. Once he stopped screaming. Once he calmed down. Once he allowed himself to relax and allowed the thrill of flying to sink, taking in the semi-weightlessness of his body and the beautiful sights. On his way down, when he was reeled back in, Harry was sure he saw a small smile on his face.

"You ever  _ever_  try anything like that again, Potter," Draco threatened. "I'll beat your insides out, dice them into pieces, and feed them to the giant's pets."

Harry rolled his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut, using the spare energy he could have used for a remark to quickly hide his camera before Draco got the chance to chug it to the ocean. "Come on, Malfoy. It wasn't that bad."

"Pardon?" Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I nearly died up there."

"You were perfectly and  _safely_  strapped in," Harry reminded him. "Besides parasailing is no different than flying."

"No different than-" Draco was too bewildered to even finish the sentence, practically choking on his words. "I beg to differ. When I'm on my broom, I'm in control. With that…harness or whatever the hell they call it, my life falls at the hands of him." He jerked his head towards Nico.

"You know parasailing is a lot safer compared to the alternative."

"Which would be?"

Harry pointed to a cliff they passed by, where on the high top a pair of guys gripped tightly onto their gliders. The two shared a look with each other before they speeded towards the edge, taking off into the sky.

Draco's mouth-and possibly his stomach-dropped as his wide, disbelieving eyes took note of the lack of harnesses they had on.

Harry studied the pair, thinking carefully. "You know something? I think I wanna do some more flying. How about we try that-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll kick you so far into the sky, you'll be flying on your own."

Harry bit his lip to hold in his laughter, but one look into Draco's eyes and he lost it right then, laughing so hard he had to hold onto the side of the boat to keep himself steady.

"Insufferable git." Draco glowered, elbowing him.

"And you're a prat," he said. "Don't we make a great pair?"

Draco muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. His glare softened, just a bit, as Harry wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

Draco didn't kill Harry, which was good since Harry wanted to live through more birthdays. Although he didn't kill him, he did put restrictions on Harry's control of the day, mainly stating any and all activities needed his approval if he wanted them to do it together.

"How is this different from what we usually do then?"

"You get to pick first." Draco smiled sweetly.

Harry rolled his eyes.

They stopped at an Italian restaurant for a late lunch that served the best pasta, which Harry had two servings of along with sandwiches while Draco had his pasta with a side of rice mixed with grilled chicken. Then for dessert, Mascarpone and dark chocolate cream served in white chocolate cups.

Their waiter came over to their table to collect their plates. "And are we satisfied with our meal?"

"Very." Draco answered, wiping his face with a napkin.

Harry was too stuffed from the meal to speak, so he answered with a nod.

"Is there still room for more dessert? We just added a new one to the menu. Chocolate gelato sandwiches."

Harry bit his lip. He really did like gelato, especially the chocolate one.

"We'll take it." Draco answered.

His best friend knew him too well.

"But before you go," Draco motioned for the waiter to come closer and whispered in his ear, nodding his head in Harry's direction.

When the waiter straightened up, his lips were curved into a grin. Draco leaned against his chair, arms folded, wearing the smirk of someone too proud of themselves.

Now, he definitely knew something was off.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the waiter called out. "We have a birthday boy."

Harry nearly fell out from his chair.  _He didn't._

He looked across the table. Draco winked at him, the smirk still on his face.

_He did._

As well as his best friend knew he loved anything chocolate, he also knew how much he hated public gestures.

Most of the waiters fluttering around the restaurant came over to their table, circling around them. A lot of the patrons turned over to them.

" _Happy birthday you,_ " they sang. " _Happy birthday to you!_ "

Harry slumped in his seat, hiding his burning-red face with his hands. That encouraged the singing waiters and waitress to come closer, singing louder.

From the gaps of his caged hands, Harry looked over to Draco. The prat smirked at him, raising his glass in cheers.

The singing lasted only for a few seconds but it dragged on for what felt like hours.

When the singing ended, Harry was able to lift his head up.

"I hate you." he hissed.

Draco cocked his head to the side, the glint in his eyes as mischievous as his smirk. "Consider it payback for my flying episode."

After lunch, the boys continued exploring, visiting the sights they had yet to see and revisiting the ones they've already been two, all whilst Harry continued to document the day with his camera.

When dusk came, Draco suggested that they checked out the house Uncle had given to them. Harry wasn't too sure, figuring the place was still being fixed. Draco, once again, convinced him otherwise in the end.

They first stopped by the house to drop some stuff and ask Uncle for the directions to the other house.

The floo had taken them to a private estate a few miles off the villa, located in a secluded area that had a private beach in the front and woods at the backyard. Like his uncle had said, the house was smaller than the villa, which disappointed Draco just a bit since he figured it would be something like the manor. Harry, on the other hand, thought the small size made the place more homely. It was large enough for two people to live comfortably in. The inside was better with a large living space already furnished and a large black fireplace in front of the couch, a decked-out kitchen. Upstairs they came across a library, several bathrooms, a small room reserved for entertainment, and several rooms reserved for guests while two master bedrooms were next door to each other with a door connecting the two.

Harry smiled as he took in the simple paint color of the room, splashes of gray and pale blue. Knowing his color-zealous godmother, he could picture his uncle needing to restrain her from going over the top with the décor.

He turned over to share the hilarious thought with Draco, but stopped short when he noticed the look on Draco's face. His brows furrowed, lips pursued, he looked almost puzzled.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, it's just…" Draco shook his head. "It's odd."

"What is?"

Draco shook his head again, this time with a small smile that reminded Harry of Aunt Cissa's secret smiles. " _Two_  master bedrooms," Harry must have looked confused because Draco went on, explaining. "We usually just share one room."

"Well-"

"We usually just use one bed."

Oh.

Heat flooded Harry's body, flaring in his stomach, spreading across his neck.

"I…" Harry looked away, swallowing.

Draco smiled, his eyes gleaming bright silver. "It's the truth, you know."

"I…" Why was it difficult for him to speak? Why did he keep blushing? "I know. You're right."

He knew Draco wasn't being cheeky. He was simply stating a fact. They've always shared a bed. At sleepovers and the manor. Their first night at Hogwarts, Draco crawled into Harry's bed and he happily welcomed him in, and it's been that way since, often switching from bed to bed but always crawling into it together. It was just another thing that made them Harry and Draco; another qualm in their relationship. Just like the forehead kissing.

Except hearing it out loud, seeing the way Draco's eyes glowed as he said it, the qualm didn't seem quite as innocent as it did before.

He swallowed a bit nervously, in hopes it would lower the temperature of his burning face, realizing he had been too quiet for too long. Draco's eyes lowered from his eyes to his lips, watching them with interest.

The fire in his stomach changed from a slow shimmer to a tight coil rattling his insides. The last time Draco looked at him like that-

"Let's check out the rest of the house." Draco suggested, already heading towards the door.

After they explored the house, they stationed themselves in front of the fireplace, sitting comfortably on the soft Persian carpet-clad floor. Harry cocked his head, staring at the fireplace for a second, before he decided to cast a fire spell on the logs, creating a nice fire.

"Really?" Draco questioned, amused.

Harry shrugged. "I like fireplaces."

"And decided you liked lighting one up in July?"

"A fireplace isn't a fireplace without a fire."

Draco rolled his eyes but said nothing, which Harry took as a surrender. Satisfied with the victory, Harry turned his attention back to the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance.

"This is amazing." Harry's smile widened as he glanced around. He couldn't believe his aunt and uncle had done this for them.

"Though the size could be a bit of an improvement, I have to agree. It is amazing. More importantly," Draco smiled as he turned his head over to him. "It's ours." He scooted an inch closer. His hand that was laying on the floor reached for his own, weaving their fingers through each other's.

A familiar warmth settled in Harry's chest.

A piece of the past emerged in his mind, unfolding before him.

" _You know what?" Draco said. "You and me will live in our own house. One that's just as big as the manor. It could even be up on a tree."_

_Harry looked up at him questioningly. "Really?"_

" _Of course," he scoffed. "A Malfoy never goes back on his word."_

"Granted, it did take longer than expected. Sadly I don't think there's a tree big enough to hold it but," Draco shrugged. "I kept my word as promised."

"Prat." Harry teased, elbowing him playfully.

"Prat I may be, but I'm your prat, git," Draco smirked. "I'm also a prat who just happens to have," His hand slipped away from their hold as Draco leaned back, pulling out a package wrapped in silver and white. "Your birthday present."

Eagerly Harry unlaced the satin bow and tore off the box, digging his way through layers of white sheets before coming face to face with a snake.

Five feet long, made from the most beautiful silver and green blown-glass that looked so amazing he was almost scared to touch it, even though he knew from experience that the snake was far from delicate.

"Slyther." Harry cried.

"I knew you'd be happy to see him," Draco looked quite pleased of himself. " _Change_."

At the sound of the command, the snake went from stilled to real, coiling and twisting, stretching his stiff muscles. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to adjust his sight before they looked up, narrowing when he saw he had an audience.

Harry slowly held out his hand to Slyther. Just like the first time, the snake carefully examined his hand and decided that Harry was worthy, sliding over to him, allowing the boy to pet his head without worrying about the snake's wrath.

"I can't believe it." Slyther was their favorite toy growing up. The last time they played with the snake, they were about eleven. The summer before they started Hogwarts. "Is he my gift?"

"Not quite," Draco corrected. Harry stared at him questioningly. "Don't give me that look, Potter. What's mine is yours and yours mine. Slyther's already yours."

True point. "Then why put him in the box?"

"To give you a hint of what your actual gift is."

_A hint?_  Harry's brow rose in question. Draco only smiled and gestured towards the box, motioning him to keep looking. Harry's eyes followed the direction of his head jerk.

Underneath the snake was a silver photo album, engraved in cursive black,  _Always Yours, Always Mine_.

Harry grabbed onto the book and opened it.

The first picture he came across was a picture of them at the carnival the city threw last week. He remembered dragging a reluctant Draco, who soon changed his tune as the day went on. In the picture he was weaving through the crowd of people with Draco hot on his heels. The blonde's face was twisted in rage while chunks of pink cotton-candy were glued to his hair.

"Oh my god." Harry laughed, remembering how the candy came to be on Draco's hair. He had gotten the treat while Draco settled for vanilla gelato. Still, picking his own dessert didn't stop Draco from taking bites from Harry's candy. Several actually. When he leaned in for a fourth bite, Harry decided to give him what he wanted, only just not in the way he expected.

In his head, it was a good idea. It would have been a good one too if he didn't raise his hand so high, shoving the candy into Draco's hair instead of his face,

It took approximately two seconds for Draco's temper to flare, which was the exact time it took Harry to shoot up from his seat and ran like his life depended on it. He received dozens of strange, questioning looks from the people he passed by, though he was sure their questions were answered as a hell-fury Draco stormed passed them.

Dear Merlin. Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

A whack to the arm brought him back to the present.

"It took me hours to get that gunk out of my hair, Potter."

"Serves you right," Harry said. "That will teach you not to eat someone's food without asking."

Draco grumbled under his breath, likely cursing him out, rolling his eyes. Harry took that as permission to keep looking.

Each page was filled with dozens of pictures. Them with Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius. Few with Uncle Severus, wearing his unimpressed scowl, even though the look wasn't quite as severe as it usually was. Pictures that featured his parents. Some of them together, his dad gazing down at his mom as she smiled at the camera, love and adoration shining in his eyes. Some of them separated, like a shot of his dad flying right towards the cameraman with his broom or a picture of his mom in the kitchen, with her two baking helpers beside her, splashing them with flour while she herself was already covered with the stuff. A family picture featuring his parents holding Harry as an infant, his mom tickling his stomach, his dad's arm securely wrapped around them.

A stinging sensation built in his eyes. He tried to soothe it by blinking them, swallowing down a lump wedged in his throat.

His mom gave him that familiar, warm smile he remembered receiving whenever he was upset and she pulled him into a comforting hug, as she looked up at him from one picture.

As if he could understand the somber moment, Draco placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine." he assured him.

Draco didn't look too convinced, but didn't call him out on it, which Harry was thankful for. He took in a deep breath, clearing his throat, and continued to go through the album.

There were a few more pictures of his parents. More of their Slytherin friends, including a funny picture of Pansy shoving Theo into the snowman they built while they were too busy trying to keep themselves up, practically dying from their laughter. However, most of the pictures were of him and Draco. Pictures from this vacation and past vacations. Pictures of them at Hogwarts, going back to first-year, including one of them waving at the camera, big grins on their faces. Pictures of life before Hogwarts, highlights of their childhood. Racing each other on their toy-brooms in the sky and on foot in Aunt Cissa's gardens. Building an army of snowmen. Engaging in intense snowball fights, hitting each other with dozens of snowballs. A shot of them huddled together in bed, arms wrapped around each other, looking completely content, like they wouldn't move for the world. Another of them camped out in their blanket and pillow fort with a large book laid out in front of them, with six year old Draco using his finger to follow along with the passage of the page while Harry paid close to what he was saying.

"Please remind me of who's brilliant idea this was?" Draco turned the page over and pointed to the top picture.

In the photo, they were either six or seven. Harry riding his bike he was proud to see had lost their training wheels, Draco perched in between the handlebars. He wore a mad grin on his face while Draco's mouth was formed into a wide O, as if he were screaming.

A smile spread across Harry's face as fragments of that day flashed through his mind. "Yours actually."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Thanks to a certain bad influence."

It was shortly after the boys had opened up the brooms Harry's dad had gotten them and decided to try them out, which ended badly. Draco was pretty upset it, mad that his plan backfired and embarrassed by how much he cried even though Harry assured him there was nothing bad about it. When he came over his house for a play-date, Harry attempted to cheer Draco up by riding on his bike, which he believed was just as good as a broom. Draco, on the other hand, wasn't quite as enthusiastic as Harry hoped he would be.

" _You're completely out of your mind if you think I'm getting on that-that-thing." Draco took steps away from the bike, as if it were about to bite him._

_Harry rolled his eyes. "You got on Sirius' motorcycle just fine."_

" _Because it was a magical one, made from our world. While this," he pointed to the bike. "is a death machine on wheels."_

_Harry was ready to tell his friend he was being ridiculous until an idea came to his head. There was always one way to persuade Draco into doing anything. It was their own special kind of persuasion: taunting._

_Smirking slyly, he tried clearing the giggles tickling his throat as he said, "If I didn't know any better, Draco, I'd say you were scared."_

_Just as he predicted, Draco's frame went rigid before he whirled over to Harry, the anxiety on his face hardening to pure determination. "I'm not scared, Potter." he scoffed._

" _Then prove it."_

_Draco scowled at him and walked over to the bike. He hoisted himself up, hands clutching onto the handlebars. "Go."_

" _Are you sure?"_

" _Go."_

" _Are you really sure?"_

" _I said go!"_

" _Okay," Harry sang with glee. "If you're sure."_

_He kicked off the stand, placing both feet on the pedals. Draco was squirming from his spot, gripping onto the bars as Harry slowly pedaled towards the edge of the hill, his early bravery waning as he took in the slope._

" _Still sure?" Harry asked._

" _Yes." The answer came out as a pinched squeak._

" _Okay."_

_Draco's lips were fixed into a tight line, trying to keep in his screams, but second the bike dipped, the lip-hold broke and an ear-piercing shriek erupted from his mouth._

" _POTTER!" he screamed, the sound as loud as Harry's excited squeals._

"I should have known," Draco shook his head. "That day should have been the first clue that you were an adrenaline junkie. And that you were determined to get me killed with your escapades."

Harry rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "You came out that day in one piece, Draco. Just like you did when we rode the roller coaster when we were seven. And just like you did today when we went parasailing."

"Barely!" he protested. "I saw my life flashing before my eyes." He pressed a hand against his chest, his eyes wide.

Deeming his friend a drama-queen, Harry continued looking through the album. They came across more pictures that had them smile and laugh as they reminisced, some that were a bit harder to remember in comparison to others, and a few pictures that made one boy flush in embarrassment while the other burst into laughter.

"Oh, I definitely remember this." Harry chuckled.

Draco glowered at him, his cheeks colored light red.

They were about six years old, playing make-believe in what looked to be Draco's backyard. Harry, dressed as a knight in silver armor, was down on one knee, looking up at the fair blonde maiden in a pink sparkly ball-gown and a tiara.

"Princess Draco." He nearly choked on his laughter.

"Queen Draco, thank you very much," A flush-faced Draco corrected.

"The look on your father's face when he saw you was priceless. I don't think I ever saw him so speechless."

Draco smacked him on the arm. "Mother was perfectly fine with it."

"Of course she was," Harry agreed. "For those few hours, she had a daughter. A very cute daughter." He pinched his cheek, cooing at him.

"Malfoys are not cute!" Draco swatted his hand away. "Keep it up, Potter, and I promise you she'll end up with a goddaughter when we come back."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Harry waved his hand before he bowed before him.

"Cheeky git." Draco shoved him away but Harry saw a hint of a smile curving his lips when he peered up. His eyes softened as he turned back to the picture. "Do you remember the vow you said when I knighted you?"

"I think so," There was a serious look in his eyes as his younger self looked up at Draco and grabbed his hand after the Queen stepped back, a look that made him look older than six. Turning back to the present-Draco, he recited, "I swear never to stray from your side. To remain loyal to you now and forever. To protect you with my life. This I solemnly swear."

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for remembering the vow, and another for not stumbling over the word "solemnly" like he did before.

The smile on Draco's face faded as the vow was renewed, his expression completely unreadable.

"Draco? Are you okay?"

He smiled but said nothing, turning over to the next page that consisted of one picture.

They were younger compared to the other pictures, around five years old. They were on lying on their sides on the carpeted floor, facing each other, sticking their tongues out as inaudible giggles spilled from their lips. Draco was dressed in gray robes while he was in his favorite red and black shirt and jeans.

" _You're my new best friend."_

_He wasn't quite as excited by the words as the other boy was. Draco seemed to so surprised by Harry's shock, which led the boy to explain the fact he wasn't used to kids being nice to him. Much less wanting to be friends with him. He watched the emotions flicker across the pale boy's face. Surprise darkened to anger, then anger cleared away to determination._

" _I never had a best friend before either. I didn't like any of the other kids," Draco said. "They're not as fun as you."_

_Harry's smile widened._

" _Besides you should consider it a privilege," Draco told him. "I don't make friends with just about anybody."_

_He looked so serious and sounded so silly that Harry couldn't help laughing._

" _You're so silly." Harry said between giggles._

" _No, no, no dear Harry. I think we already agreed that you were it first."_

" _Prat."_

" _Git."_

"I can't believe you actually have a picture of this." Harry said.

"I have my ways." Draco smirked.

Harry watched their younger selves hiss and laugh. It seemed like it was just yesterday his mom dragged him along to her friend's house for tea and a play-date. He was sure it would be horrible, since that was typically how most play-dates have gone for him. Little did he know that he would end up meeting his future best friend.

"So?" Draco drawled. "Can I safely assume that you liked my gift because if not then I suppose I could exchange for something-"

"Oh hush!" Harry cut him off. "I love it."

"Good," He smiled. "So does that mean I have your permission to tell everyone that once again I got you the best present?"

Harry already knew with or without his permission, Draco would still brag. He always did. However he couldn't deny that it was a good gift, a very touching one. Draco captured the highlights of their friendship with pictures and memories he hadn't thought about in years, starting with early childhood up to the present.

"Eight years." He mused, astonished by the number of years they've been friends.

"Eight amazing-and very interesting-years." Draco added.

"True and true."

Slyther came from his hiding place and slide over to them, draping himself over their laps. His pink tongue peeked from his sealed lips, flickering about.

"Course we need to thank the man-and toy-that brought us together," Harry petted the snake's head. "And taught us the art of hissing."

A hiss cut through the air but it didn't come from Slyther. Harry turned to the left. Draco's lips were fixed into a sly, wicked smile as he hissed at him.

Feeling his own lips lifting into a smile, Harry hissed back.

Draco hissed as he leaned in closer. Harry hissed in return. It was then, while scooting closer to his friend, that he realized how close they were to each other, leaving little space between them. And that they hadn't blinked once as they looked at each other.

A pang of molten heat shot through his chest as he watched Draco's eyes darken. For reasons unknown, his face flushing and breathing halted, Harry's eyes dropped from dark gray to thin, soft pink lips.

Harry found himself being pulled towards him, head lowering.

He dropped the tiniest kiss on Draco's bottom lip, shivering from the bolts of heat that passed between them. He pulled back slightly to swallow nervously before he slowly leaned in, tilting back his head, eyes closing, lips puckering-

"MASTERS!"

Dobby's shrilled voice was like a bucket of ice-water poured over their heads, causing the two to pull apart.

A growl ripped through Draco's lips, his eyes still heated but for a whole different reason. Whirling over to the house-elf, he demanded, " _What is it!?_ "

Both the elf and Harry were stunned by the snarl in Draco's voice, but Dobby got over the shock more quickly.

"Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa request the young masters' presence immediately," he said. "It's urgent."

As Harry and Draco stepped through the other end of the floo, the Malfoys were already waiting for them in the living room, their faces grim.

"Father!"

"Aunt Cissa!"

Draco went to Lucius while Harry went to Narcissa, who tried her best to smile at him, but didn't have enough energy to put her full effort into it.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"We're fine, dear," she said. "We're fine."

"But Dobby said it was urgent," Then he remembered that the creature didn't say that they were the ones in trouble. "Is it Uncle Severus? Remus? Did something happen to them-"

"No, no, no," His aunt gently cut him off, cupping his cheek. "They're fine, darling. They're alright."

"But then who-"

"Hello Mr. Potter."

Heads turned over to the hallway, where the Head Minister stepped into the living room. He looked just as anxious as his aunt and uncle.

"Minister Fudge. What are you doing here?" he asked.

The man's cheeks puffed out as he took in a deep breath that he let out slowly. "I'm afraid I carry some troubling news that concerns you."

Harry stepped away from Aunt Cissa and took a step forward to the Minister, his stomach tightening into knots. "What kind of news?"

"It's Sirius Black. He was recently spotted in Egypt, and we have reason to believe that he's coming straight to London. That he's coming for you." 


	14. Chills and Laughter of the Past

Two words

That was all it took.

Two words to twist the carefree atmosphere his birthday had brought down to a freezing chill. Turned the warm brightness of summer into a cold, dark winter.

 _Just like the day of their funerals_ , a voice whispered in his head.

He thought he had never been so cold, so numb. Well, actually, he felt that way before, reached that low end of numbness on two other occasions.

That Halloween night, and the night he stumbled upon the adults talking, finding out who was responsible for that night.

Dumbledore's words swept across his mind like pieces of solid ice digging into his skin.

" _Two people were entrusted with the Potters' safety. Two people who knew about the wards and what the Dark Lord was after. One was me. The other was a person that they believed was on their side. Someone James trusted with his life. Sirius Black."_

Two words.

Two words that caused ice to wrap itself around his heart, crushing the organ in its' cold fist.

Two words that made up a familiar name he tried pushing aside, locking in the deepest depths of his mind.

"Harry."

He blinked once, then again, stunned by the weight of his eyes.

He had no clue how long he had been staring into space, lost in his train of thought, until Draco's voice reeled him back into the present. Glancing around at the concerned, troubled faces among him, he realized that he had been lost for awhile.

Concern shone in Draco's eyes. He took a step forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't ask him if he was okay. Harry was sure the look on his face said enough.

"Why don't we take this conversation to the parlor room?" Uncle was already heading that direction, leaving the others no choice but to follow.

Dobby set tea and a plate of crumpets at the table once they were seated. For Harry, the elf handed him a piece of leftover tart from the breakfast.

"Treat Master Harry's favorite. Makes Master Harry smile." The elf said.

Harry smiled just a bit, thanking him. The smile dimmed as he looked up, where the Minister of Magic sat across from him, a troubled frown on his face as he watched him.

The Minster's eyes shifted over from Harry to Draco, narrowing slightly. "Lucius, perhaps it's best that your son leaves us."

Uncle Lucius's eyes went to his son. Draco kept his eyes on Fudge, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the couch. The gesture, along with the smirk curling his lips, made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere.

Fudge's eyes narrowed into slits and his lips were drawn into a tight line. Still, he didn't waste time fighting with them about it. He turned his attention to more pressing matters.

"It's your birthday, isn't it?" he asked Harry, who nodded. The look on his face softened. "Allow me to take this time to wish you a Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, sir."

"I can imagine this isn't the ideal news a young man wishes to on his thirteenth birthday but-"

"Would you kindly cease with this idle talk and get to the situation at hand?" Uncle demanded.

The Minster scowled, insulted by the interruption, but wisely kept his feelings to himself. To Harry, he asked, "Mr. Potter, what exactly do you remember of that Halloween night, six years ago?"

Harry's stomach retched, as if he was kicked. Bile rose in his throat, filling his mouth.

Fudge sat patiently in his seat, waiting for an answer.

"I…" he cleared his throat, as if to ease the burning sensation of his mouth. "I remember enough."  _Too much_ , he thought.

"Specifically?"

A low growl rumbled. Harry glanced over to his left. Draco's lips were fixed into a snarl, eyes lit like burning mercury as they glared at Fudge.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry returned his attention back to the man. "If you please?"

Draco's growl was louder than the first, his eyes more deadly.

Harry swallowed down the bile that burnt his throat, his stomach churning. "I remember that Voldermort attacked my home. I remember that my dad tried to fight him off to save me and my mom. I remember that my mom tried to protect me. I remember that Voldermort killed them, tried to kill me, but ended up getting me this," Harry pushed back his hair, revealing his scar. Fudge flinched from the sight and the usage of the Dark Lord's name. "And I remember finding out that the man responsible for their deaths was…"  _Dad's best friend. My own godfather._  "Sirius Black."

Each word that came out from his mouth burnt like acid.

"That's all I remember."

Draco reached for his hand, linking their fingers together. The familiar warmth settled in his chest, easing away the nausea and the numbness.

Fudge crossed his legs as he leaned back into his seat. "That's all you remember?"

"He already told you everything!" Draco snapped.

"Draconis." Uncle warned.

Draco clamped his mouth, his eyes glowing.

The Minister paid no mind to it. He was waiting for Harry's answer.

"Yes, that's all I remember." He saw that the Minster wasn't pleased, as if he was hoping for more.

His theory was confirmed when the man sighed heavily. "I'm afraid, Mr. Potter," he said. "There is more to the story."

"Minister Fudge." His aunt stepped in. "I hardly think this is the time."

Harry's head swerved over to the direction of Narcissa. Hardly the time for what?

"Circumstances, Madame," the minister scowled. "suggest otherwise."

Nacrissa was silent but the look on her face showed her displeasure.

To Harry, Fudge said "Sirius Black is convicted to being an accessory to your parents' murder, which I'm sure you're already aware of." He waited until Harry nodded before he continued on. "However, he is also convicted for the murder of fourteen people."

Draco's mouth dropped. Any other time, Harry would be amused to see to the esteemed Malfoy speechless if he wasn't so stunned himself. The ice in his heart thickened, his stomach tying itself into knots.

"Four-fourteen?" Harry choked.

The Minister nodded slowly, his eyes never straying from Harry. "I'm afraid so. After your parents…"Fudge frowned, struggling for the right word. Unable to find it, he simply said "untimely end, Black fled."

Numbly, Harry nodded. He already knew that.

"Before he got away, he was confronted by someone who tried to turn him in."

"Who?" Draco questioned for him.

"Does the name Peter Pettigrew ring a bell to you?" The answer was aimed at Harry.

Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew. Harry's brows furrowed as he thought of the name. He was sure he heard of it somewhere before.

An image popped into his head. His dad showing him a picture of the original Marauders; him, Remus, Sirius, and a short, plump boy. He recalled meeting that same boy-only older-a few times when he was younger. If he remembered correctly, he was a quiet, somewhat awkward man. Fumbling with his pockets as he searched for a piece of candy to give to Harry, the treat usually soaked in his sweaty palms. "He was an old friend's of dad's."

The Minister nodded. "Pettigrew confronted Black a few blocks away from your home. I suppose he wanted to be the hero. A valiant effort. Unfortunately for Pettigrew, he underestimated how insane and powerful his _friend_ had become."

"Sirius killed him?" That was the only conclusion Harry could see for a tale like this.

His guess proved right, earning himself another slight nod from the Minister. "Black didn't just kill Pettigrew, Mr. Potter. He _annihilated_  him."

The ice in Harry's body spread throughout him like parasites, sucking away any and all glimmers of warmth.

"Black eliminated Pettigrew with a dark spell-a powerful spell that nearly took out the entire block. Thirteen people were touched by the shockwaves of the spell. By the time Aurors arrived, it was practically a warzone. Blood covered the streets, houses mangled and destroyed, bodies torn and scattered with a single finger-"

"Minister Fudge," The brisk in Aunt Cissa's voice thickened to pure ice. "That is enough!"

"With all due respects,  _madam_ ," There was an emphasize in the word that caused a dark scowl to appear on Narcissa's face. "He needs to know what's he's up against. Keeping him in the dark won't help."

"Even so-"

"What finger?"

The question directed the audience's attention back to Harry again.

"Pardon, Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked.

"You said something about a finger," Harry clarified. "In the midst of blood and…remains of the victims, you mentioned a finger."

For a moment it looked like Fudge was considering what his aunt said about exposing too much, appearing conflicted. In the end, though, his views on the matter won. "The finger was all that remained of Peter Pettigrew."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach churning.

"And Black fled after that?" Uncle Lucius asked.

"Not immediately," Fudge said. "According to a witness, Black stood in the middle of the street laughing."

"Laughing?" Harry echoed.

Fudge nodded again. "Like a mad man. He just laughed and laughed until he took off."

Harry easily picked on what happened after that. Sirius ran. He ran to his house where he grabbed a bag that he stuffed with clothes, supplies, and money, oblivating his house-elf before he left once more.

Fudge continued on, saying how the lead on Sirius came to be. The source came from no other than Ron's dad, Arthur. Apparently the Weaselys were out in the flee-market when Mr. Weasely noticed a man fitting Sirius' description hanging among the crowd. At first Arthur had no idea that it was Sirius. Sirius, on the other hand, knew it was him. Or at least knew of Arthur's connection to the Ministry because, before man could even blink, Sirius took out his wand. He fired a hex so strong several vendors lost their shops in the process. Not to mention the crowd of shoppers, including Ron who was standing the closest to Sirius, barely escaped with their necks.

The moment the smoke from the blast cleared, Sirius was gone.

"A team of Aurors managed to get the address to the room the place he was living at. More so a room, hidden upstairs in a restaurant. And came across very…interesting décor."

Minister Fudge pulled over several pictures from a manila envelope and laid them flat on the table. Harry leaned in closer to get a better look at them. The pictures were of the egg-brown walls of the room completely covered with newspaper clippings of his parents, Voldermort, Harry. Sprawled over the clippings in sloppy, almost-childlike handwriting was Hogwarts. Written over and over again, sometimes written over another.

The school contained thousands of valuable treasures from ancient artifacts to spellbooks said to have been Merlin's himself. Harry knew, though, not a single one mattered to Sirius.

 _Not as much as me_ , he thought, swallowing a hard lump.

'We've already alerted Dumbledore about this," Fudge must have noticed the fear in Harry's eyes, because his voice softened. "He and the people who run Azkaban are working together to make sure that the students will not be harmed."

"Really?" Uncle arched his brow questioningly, frowning. "What sort of plan has the great Dumbledore come up with?"

"I'm not inclined to say, sir. Under strict orders. I can assure you that the students, including your son, will not be harmed."

Draco scowled. Uncle Lucius's frown deepened. He didn't believe the promise anymore than Draco did.

"This brings me back to what I need to speak to you about, Mr. Potter. We should discuss living arrangements."

"Living arrangements?" Harry and Draco echoed.

Fudge nodded. "Black is a dangerous man, Mr. Potter and it's clear that he wants to finish what his master started. Dumbledore and I talked it over. We both agree that for your safety you should be relocated. Just until September first, when the school starts, and we'll have an arranged team escort you to the Platform. I even set up a room for you at the Leaky Cauldron-"

"Absolutely not!" Draco shot up from his seat, fists clenched, face twisted in anger.

"Draco-"

"He's not going anywhere!" Apparently Draco's determination was stronger than his fear of Lucius' wrath. It could only explain why he was able to cut him off so easily.

Draco took one step over to the right, standing directly in front of Harry like he was trying to shield him.

"Despite my son's outbursts," Uncle cut his eyes over to his son, who flinched from the look. "I do have to agree with him. Relocation is hardly necessary."

"Sir, given the circumstances, the right course of action-"

"Would be to set the wards on maximum and make sure to place protection barriers around the manor, which I'll be sure to do once we return there."

Fudge wasn't swayed. "With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy, I don't think the Manor is the ideal place for Harry to be at the moment."

The temperature of the room lowered immensely as Lucius and Narcissa's eyes narrowed. The Minister must have felt the chill, trying to mask his shiver while playing with the collar of his jacket, though he couldn't control the fear that danced across his eyes.

"And why would that be?" Uncle asked, though the ice of his voice shaped the question into a demand.

"Several reasons come to mind, ones that have been encircling both mine and Albus' for several years now." Despite his discomfort, Fudge had enough fire in him to pull off a scowl.

"Oh believe me, Minister. I have a good idea on what ideas could be going on in those minds of yours." His uncle's lips were lifted but not into a smile. The sharpness of his lips were too much sharp, too chilled for a smile.

His words caused Fudge's scowl to tighten.

"But I am curious. What reason could you possibly have that makes you believe Harry staying in the Manor would be dangerous?"

Fudge's eyes shifted over from Lucius to Narcissa.

She immediately got the hint, her eyes cold slits. "And how, may I ask, do I fit into this scenario of yours?"

"Sirius Black is your family, madam, which means two things. He may be able to gain access to the manor because of your lineage. Also, you be inclined to offer him aid-"

"I offer nothing of the sort to traitors and cowards."

The Minister shivered from the ice of her voice. Harry couldn't help sympathizing with the man. Most times, his aunt was a gentle woman. When crossed, though, she proved that she could be just as terrifying as Uncle.

"If I ever come across Sirius, I can assure you, Minister, aid will be the last thing I offer him," She stirred her tea and took a small of the drink. It was a simple gesture but the silence that followed after the ice-chilled words left wide gaps for interpretation. "Secondly, Sirius is not part of the family. Hasn't been in ages. My aunt made sure of that."

A flash went through Harry's head. Sirius showing him his disregarded spot on the family tree.

" _My mother did that herself after I ran away," He ran his hand over the spot, his usually mischief eyes somber and distant as if he was reliving that moment. "Charming woman."_

"Mrs. Malfoy, with all due respect-"

"With all due respect, Minister Fudge," Narcissa smiled without teeth. A smile that matched the sharpness of her eyes. "It would seem that the reservations you made at the Leaky Cauldron will have to go to another guest because Harry will not be using them. He and Draco, along with my husband and I, shall return to the manor and stay within distance until September first."

Minister scowled. He would have further protested if Uncle hadn't called for the house-elves to escort him out.

As soon as their things were packed, Uncle set the floo to the manor. The first thing he did when they came across the other side of the floo was tend to the wards. Nacrissa ordered the house-elves to tend to their bags and suggested to the boys that they go out to the Quidditch field.

"Actually, Aunt Cissa," Harry said. "I think I'll take a nap."

His aunt smiled in understanding. "Of course, dear. I'll have Dobby get you when dinner's ready."

Harry wasn't sure if he'd be able to manage dinner.

He went to their room. Boxes of un-opened birthday gifts were stacked onto the desk and window still. The bed looked inviting but he didn't go over to it. Not yet.

He walked over to the dresser, crouching down low to the last drawer. He dug his way through the socks and clothes until he pulled out a small, stuffed black dog.

When he first saw the dog and learned who it was from, he wanted nothing more than to see it burn. Watch the flames spread across the toy and feed until there was nothing left but ashes, just like the letter had burnt. But…he couldn't. When he saw the dog again, he knew he couldn't get rid of it, surprising himself again as he decided to keep the name Scuffy.

Maybe it was because he always wanted a dog and knew Scuffy was the closest thing he would have to a dog since his and uncle weren't fond of pets. It could be that fact that he wasn't one to harm animals, even fake ones like Scuffy. Or…

Sighing, Harry shook his head and studied the dog. The fur has worn a little over the years but it was still soft. The snout was cold like an actual dog's. The lips were fixed into a smile.

Harry petted the dog and set it on the desk. Looking directly into its still-doe eyes, Harry said " _Speak._ "

The dog's eyes glowed before they blinked, turning from still to life.

"Kiddo," Sirius' voice emerged from the toy's mouth. "I need you to remember this. Not everything is as it seems."

Harry discovered Scuffy's special talent after that Christmas. He stared at the dog, wondering what was going through Sirius' head when he got him the gift. Somehow the word, speak, spilled from his lips, and the next thing he knew he was hearing Sirius' voice. At first Harry was sure that he was losing it, until he looked over Scuffy who repeated the message.

It was as if Sirius knew his letter would go up in smoke, so he came up with a backup. He made sure the dog would be his messenger.

"Kiddo, I need you to remember this. Not everything is as it seems." Scuffy repeated.

Harry suppose that he should have told Minister Fudge about the dog's message. Should have shown it to his guardians. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

After Scuffy finished his message, the dog smiled, his tail wagging, as he titled his head back, as if he was waiting to be petted. Harry indulged the dog and carried him over to the bed. Scuffy crawled to Harry's side as soon as the boy laid himself down on the mattress, falling asleep almost instantly. Harry wasn't as lucky.

He wanted to sleep. Hell, he just wanted to forget about today, but his mind refused to obey. It was too wired with thoughts. He stared up at the ceiling, his head spinning.

Sirius was back. Really back.

When Harry heard the truth about Sirius, he never felt so-so betrayed, lack for a better word. Betrayed, stunned, furious, and numb. For not only himself but his parents as well, mainly for his dad, who trusted the man and ended up dead because of it.

Harry tried to imagine Draco doing such a thing, then immediately pushed the thought away, flinching. He couldn't imagine Draco betraying him like that anymore than he could imagine himself doing the same thing to him.

 _Sirius had no problem_ , a voice whispered in his ear.

Sirius had no problem betraying his best friend for power, just as he had no problem killing their other friend and those poor people. Then, before he could answer for what he had done-or what he supposedly done-he ran. Ran before the Aurors could catch him, and has been running ever since.

That was the one thing Harry couldn't get over.

In the letter, Sirius pleaded his innocence. Told Harry that he would never do anything to hurt him or his parents. In the message, he urged him not to be close-minded, which had to mean something.

But still he ran. He ran that night after his parents were killed, after he killed Peter Pettigrew. And continue to run until he decided to come back.

 _Why run if you're innocent?_  That was the question that has been circling Harry's mind for years now, a question he was dying to ask but knew it would get no answer. Innocent people don't run from crimes they didn't commit. They don't hide away from the authority. They don't become fugitives. So why did Sirius?

The bedroom door slowly opened but he didn't turn his head, keeping his attention on the ceiling. He didn't even turn his head as the mattress dipped and an arm entwined itself around his waist, bringing him close to the owner.

Draco glanced over at the dog and frowned. "I should have had you burn it."

"I wouldn't have let you."

"Then I should have burnt it for you."

"Then I would have been mad at you."

Draco shrugged with one shoulder. "Not for long though."

Harry didn't bother answering. They both knew it was true. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling over to the dog sleeping away. He ran his hand over his head, which caused Scuffy to press himself closer to him.

He could feel the heat of Draco's glare, but didn't turn.

"You listened to it again, didn't you?" Draco demanded. He knew about the message. There were no secrets between them. He may not have showed the adults but he showed Draco, who was sure that it was a trick, even after Harry assured him that were no dark hexes or tracking spells attached to the dog.

Harry chose to stay silent, which Draco took as his answer. He sighed, muttering under his breath, but didn't push him on the issue. He brought Harry closer to him, wrapping his arms around him.

"I wish we didn't leave our house." Harry whispered.

"Me too," Draco sighed. "We can always go back."

Harry wished it could be that simple. "You know we can't. Not now. Your parents won't let us. Not when…." Not when an alleged madman was after him.

Almost as if Draco could read his mind, his hold tightened and a growl rumbled in his throat.

"He's back," Harry said, though he felt like he was saying it more to himself than to Draco. "He's actually back."

"I know." Draco said.

"And apparently he's after me." Harry was his target, but Draco was typically by his side, which meant he could also be in danger too. The thought sent ice through his system, chilling his veins.

Draco eased away slightly to sit up a bit. He looked down at Harry and placed a hand against his cheek, stroking his skin. The touch was so soothing, he nearly fell asleep. He forced himself to stay awake, tilting his head up to meet his friend's gaze.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Draco's face wasn't a twisted mask of rage like it was earlier. His eyes weren't glowing silver, back to simple gray. He looked calm, calm but determined. Harry could sense the power behind the words, behind the promise, that caused him to shiver, but this time from the heat that slid into his body, pooling in his stomach. The heat intensified as Draco pressed a soft kiss against his forehead that made goosebumps break across his skin.

Harry swallowed, needing a moment to compose himself. Once he had, he looked up at Draco. His gaze stopped at his lips, remembering its softness from earlier, and continued looking up till they reached his eyes. He laid his hand over Draco's that was still holding his cheek, taking comfort in its familiar softness and warmth. "And I won't let anything happen to you."

Draco smiled, pressing another kiss against his forehead. He laid himself back on the bed, and Harry easily fell into him, lying his head on his chest, while Draco's arms wrapped themselves around him. "Then it settled. I'll protect you just as you'll protect me."

"Always." Harry whispered.

"Always." Draco agreed.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, allowing him to be lulled by the steady rhythm of Draco's heartbeat and his warmth. 


	15. Ghosts of the Past

It was beautiful-before that it. It wasn't like the Manor large with its vast estate and elaborative décor. It wasn't as extraordinary or complex as Grimmauld Place. It was smaller, the décor more simple, but that was one of the things that made Godric Hollow beautiful in its own way. There was also other key elements that added to its beauty.

Like the way his mum's laughter rang in the air whenever his dad pulled her away from whatever she was doing-working on a new spell, cooking, reading-to make her dance with him, cutting off her half-hearted protests with a rain of kisses. Or the way his heart raced in anticipation whenever his dad took him for a ride on his broom in the backyard, taking him higher and higher until he was sure he could touch the sky. Or during the holidays like Christmas when holiday songs blared throughout the house, along with the scent of peppermint and ginger and pine, as they decorated the tree. Or Halloween when jack-o-lanterns were posted on the window frame, grinning at those who passed by, and inside he would be squirming as his mum helped him into his costume.

It was so beautiful before but now he barely recognized the house. The hedge had grown wild in the six years Harry has last seen it from the rubble laid scattered among the tall, over-grown grass. Every window was cracked as if it has been beaten with rocks. A good portion of the roof on the left side was blasted off, with pieces hanging by the side.

A chill crept up his spine, making him pull his nighrobe tighter around him. He wished he brought more with him, wore heavier layers, but the decision to come to his old house had been last-minute.

Thoughts of his parents, Voldemort, Sirius, and Halloween night clouded his mind. Those thoughts led to images that whirled around his head like a spinning top.

He woke up with a jolt-the fifth time the incident occurred that night-and didn't try to go back to sleep. There was no point. His mind was too awake. The thought of revisiting the past planted itself in his head and he wasn't able to cut it down once it taken root.

Pulling himself up, Harry looked over at Draco sleeping by his side, arm wrapped around his waist. He knew what his best friend would say if he knew what was going on in his head. Draco would call him crazy and try to talk him out of it. That was the realistic scenario. The worst one would be Draco, unable to convince Harry to change his name, insisting that he comes along. This was one trip Harry knew he had to alone.

He carefully slipped out of Draco's hold, grabbed his nightrobe, and snuck away to the floo in the library upstairs.

"Godric Hollow." he whispered, tossing the green powder into the fireplace and stepping through.

The idea of coming here seemed-well, not brilliant, but it was something he couldn't push aside. It was one thing to think. It was another thing to do.

Harry swallowed down a lump wedged in his throat.

The door creaked as he slowly pushed it open and he saw that the inside was no better than the outside. If anything it was worse. Cobwebs were gathering in the corners. The air somehow seemed colder, piercing through him like a knife.

Harry's heart throbbed painfully as he looked at the stairs and saw the banister was blown off, lying on the floor, the steps coated with dry crimson. He tip-toed his way around it as he climbed up. Each step he took caused a bolt of nausea to hit his stomach.

Once he reached the top, he continued his way down the hall.

His room looked just as it did the last time he was here: unrecognizable and mangled. His blown-out door was lying next to his closet. Smears of smoke covered the sides of his doorframe. Cold gusts of air blown into the room, leaking through the cracks of the shattered windows. Streaks of blood coated the floor, dry and dark.

 _Remember_ , he told himself. That was why he came here. To remember. To see if there was something he missed or overlooked. To get some answers.

Harry walked over to his bed and brushed his hand against his old blue blanket.

_He giggled, trying to escape. His mum was persistent. Smiling above him, she caught him before he could run and laid him back on the bed, tucking him in nice and tight._

" _You sneaky, little thing." she said._

_He giggled, and her smile widened._

" _You're just like your father. You always love making things difficult." He spotted warm affection hidden underneath the scold._

" _Well, he's a Potter of course." His dad grinned. "And you forget, my dear, being difficult is one of my most endearing qualities."_

_Mum rolled her eyes, humming._

" _Daddy, can we go to the ice-cream parlor after the Quidditch shop?" He still couldn't believe they were actually getting brooms tomorrow. Well, his dad didn't outright say so but why else would a parent take two young wizards to a Quidditch shop other than get them brooms?_

_The easy smile on his dad's face faded away slowly, waning down into a thoughtful frown. A frown that grew a bit as he traded a look with his mom who looked sad._

" _About the Quidditch shop, lion. There's something we need to tell you."_

_Harry felt a frown turning his face. His dad was rarely serious, and when he was it didn't mean anything good. "What is it?"_

" _I'm afraid that-"_

_A creak cut him off. At first it was faint Harry barely heard it, until it grew louder and louder like nails on a chalkboard._

" _No." Dad whispered._

" _James." His mom grabbed their hands, her grip tight._

_The color completely drained from his dad's face as he turned away from the door, looking back at them. His eyes were wide in fear, an emotion Harry never saw on his face till now._

" _Run." he whispered._

" _James?" his mum repeated in a soft whisper, gripping onto his hand._

" _Run!"_

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as the memory faded from his head, and then took in a deep breath to calm his nerves.

His dad told his mum to run. He ran out of the room to hold Voldemort off, to give them time to run.

Harry wondered what went through his dad's mind in his final moments. Was he scared? Did he force himself to hold it together? Did he realize that he had been betrayed in his final moments? Did he even have the time to process that before he died?

Harry knew he had to stop himself before his mind pulled him down the rabbit hole.

His parents knew they were in danger. When he brought up the Quidditch shop, their smiles faded away, the easy mood changing abruptly. His dad was beginning to tell him something; most likely that they had to go away for awhile. Before he had the chance, Voldemort came.

That was something. It was certainly more than what he had when he first came in, but it still wasn't enough. It did nothing to shed light on the questions encircling his head.

Defeated, Harry looked out the window, watching splashes of orange and pink streak across the sky. It was almost morning. It wouldn't be long before the others woke up and discovered he was gone.

He walked out of his old room, navigating his way through the clutter, making his way downstairs. When he reached the front door, he turned back and looked over at his childhood home once more, remembering the laughter and love that were the key elements to the house's former beauty.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped out from his mouth in a low whisper. He was sorry that they died in the first place. He was sorry that they died for him. He was sorry that they died because of a betrayal.

 _Supposedly_ , a voice whispered in his head. Sirius' message ran through his mind.

" _Not everything is as it seems."_

Harry took one last look at the ruined house and made his way out.

* * *

Luckily for Harry, he managed to get back to the manor, creep into his room, and crawl into bed before Dobby knocked on the door ten minutes later to announce that breakfast was ready for the young masters.

Draco eyed him wearily over breakfast, as if he suspected something. Harry was worried that he did and would confront him. He armed himself with three possible stories about his whereabouts, but had a feeling none would persuade his best friend.

"You know what's funny?" Draco asked after Dobby cleared the table.

"What?" Harry asked carefully, making sure his voice sounded as normal as possible.

"I woke up to use the loo in the middle of the night and saw my favorite pillow was gone." His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Went to the library."

"At three in the morning?"

"Was having trouble sleeping. Figured a good book might help." It wasn't a complete lie. He did have trouble sleeping and he usually did look for a book to take his mind off things.

Draco eyed him for a second or two before he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin that he laid down on the table. "Up for a game of Quidditch?"

Letting out a small, relieved sigh, Harry smiled at him. "Always."

Draco smiled at him in return, all traces of suspicion gone from his face. A twinge of guilt turned in Harry's stomach. He felt bad about lying to Draco, but he made a promise to himself he would tell him the truth. Soon.

Minister Fudge tried once more to get Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, coming to the manor a week later. Except this visit barely lasted an hour before Uncle Lucius called for the house-elves to escort him out.

His friends heard of the news. Harry wasn't surprised. Not only was Sirius plastered all over the front pages of every newspaper in the wizarding world, but was also appearing in the muggle news report with the media classifying him as a madman wanted in questioning for a vicious crime. Their Slytherin friends sent him candy packages in hopes of cheering him up. Ron and Hermione sent letters. In his letter, Ron expressed his fear from the attack at the flea market that cut his family vacation abruptly short. Apparently his rat, Scrabbers, was more distressed about the attack than he was. Ron also wrote about that the new cat Hermione bought from the pet shop in Diagon Alley added more stress to the poor rat. From the moment the two pets met, the cat has been fixated on making him his meal. In contrast, Hermione's letter expressed annoyance towards Ron for his anti-cat rampage, insisting that Crookshanks (Harry did a double take when he read the name) was an absolute sweetheart. Along with her annoyance over their pets' squabble, she also expressed concern over his well-being. She pleaded over and over again that Harry doesn't do anything to attract trouble.

The last part wasn't too big of a request to make, mainly thanks to Aunt Cissa who was keeping her word to Minister Fudge about them staying put in London. The boys barely left the manor other than to go to Diagon Alley once their letters came in again to get new school supplies, including a killer Monster book that nearly tore the book-clerk's hand off.

Days rolled by in a mix of finishing up last-minute homework assignments, sending and receiving more letters to and from friends, and planning out the school year with Draco. It wasn't long before September first arrived and Harry found himself stepping through the solid metal wall of Platform 9 ¾, gazing up at the scarlet-red and black engine of Hogwarts Express.

Draco appeared after him and took his place beside him.

"Boys," Uncle called. They turned around. "I understand that given current circumstances, this school year may be a bit trifling compared to the other two."

That was one way of looking at it. A very mild way.

"However I know that you will manage through it. As long as you stick close, keep your guard up, and stay close to each other. Though I doubt the latter will be much of a problem for you," Draco nudged Harry and gave him a smile that was returned. "And further more I expect you both to be mindful and study hard. You both made top marks the past two years and I expect the same for third year."

"Yes Father."

"Yes Uncle Lucius."

"Most of all," Aunt Cissa pulled away from Uncle's hold and stepped towards them. "I expect you both to watch out for each other and make sure you stay safe."

"We promise." Draco swore.

Aunt Cissa placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and bent forward till she was at his level. "Harry, I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that no matter what you may hear, however tempting it may be, you will not do anything foolish and try to pursue Sirius."

Pursue Sirius? A tornado of emotions spun inside him ranging from shock, remnants of anger and betrayal, and confusion threw in the center. The thought never occurred to him. "Aunt Cissa, why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?"

Uncle let out a small chuckle. "The boy makes a good point, my dear."

Aunt Cissa didn't look that convinced. She stared at Harry with worried eyes, waiting for his answer.

"I promise." he told her.

A small smile touched her face, widening as she straightened herself up and turned over to Draco.

"And I expect you to go through the books I gave you, Dragon," she said. "You may find some of the information insightful."

"Yes Mother."

A loud whistle blew from the train, a message to all students and family that it was time for departure.

After getting one more reminder from Uncle about minding themselves and studying and hugs and kisses from Aunt Cissa, the boys boarded the train. Almost every single compartment was full. They walked down to the end of the train until they found one vacant of people.

Harry shut the door behind them. Draco sat down and pulled out a heavy book from his bag that was as big as the Monsters book, bounded in dark blue material that reminded Harry of bark from a oak tree, silver patent designs imprinted by the corners, the pages yellowed from age.

"Is that one of the books Aunt Cissa was talking about earlier?" Harry asked, taking a seat beside him.

"One of many," Draco said. "She had the elves pack a suitcase full of them. Send she would send more after I finish the first load."

Harry glanced up at the luggage rack, where one small black suitcase was overly-stuffed; looking like it was a zip away from popping everything out. If that was the first load, he wondered how extensive the next one would be.

"How many pages do you think it has?"

A creak crackled in the book's bindings as Draco opened it. It sounded as if it hadn't been opened in years. "If I had to guess, I would say about seven hundred."

There was a sentence dashed onto the first page but it was written in a language neither of them recognized. Draco licked his finger and turned to the next page. More of the strange language continued on in the form of a passage. There were bits of Latin he was able to decrypt, but still he didn't understand. Underneath the passage was a picture of a man, shirtless, skin gaspingly white, long hair running over his face. Twin scars were slashed onto his back, coming together in the end to make a V.

He gripped onto the ground tightly, silver light pooling around his body. His eyes snapped open, pale blue eyes glowing vividly. He unclenched his hands from the ground and slowly got up. As he stood, wiry branches flocked with feathers sprouted from the scars on his back, growing and expanding, unfolding and spreading into a pair of beautiful pure-white wings.

"Wow." Harry murmured.

Draco was too transfixed by the picture to speak, so he gave a nod as his answer.

There was something off to Harry about the man in the picture. Something familiar in a vague sense but he couldn't put his finger on it. Harry watched the transformation of the man again, paying close attention to details. Like the paleness of his skin he thought was sickly but was pale in luminous sort of way, almost like the moon. The man's hair that was a pale, almost-white shade of blonde. His eyes that at first glance looked light-blue but he saw they were touched with a hint of gray.

"That's odd."

"What's odd?" Draco asked.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that he was y-"

The train came to a stop with a jolt, nearly throwing the boys off their seats. Distant thuds and bangs rang throughout the train, telling them that luggage tumbled from the racks and students possibly fallen from their seats. The lights died in a buzzing hum, casting the train into total darkness.

"What the hell?" Draco muttered. "What's going on?"

"Must be faulty wiring."

"On a magical train? Hardly. Cheap handiwork is more like-"

A soft, crackling noise trickled against Harry's eardrum. He covered Draco's mouth with his hand. The blonde turned fiery, glaring eyes over to him, but those very same eyes widened in shock along with Harry's as a shivering light filled the compartment.

"Harry." Draco hissed.

He placed a finger against his lips, gesturing for the other boy to be quiet.

The door slide opened before either one drew breath. What came through it was a sight that caused fear to tear through their chests, gripping onto their hearts.

Standing in the doorway was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, and slimy-looking, like something dead decayed in water.

Harry pushed Draco behind him, blocking him from the creature's view, without turning his eyes away from it.

As though it could sense Harry's gaze, the hand withdraw itself into the folds of its cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew in a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air.

An intense cold swept over them. Harry felt his own breath caught in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his heart.

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in the cold. There was a rushing sound in his ears like water, as if he was drowning. The deeper he was being pulled under, the louder the ringing grew.

And then, from far away, he heard screaming. Terrible, terrified, pleading screaming. Coming from a woman. He wanted to find her. He needed to help her. He tried to move his arms but his limbs felt too heavy.

A thick, white fog was swirling around him. Inside him-

"Harry! Harry!  _Wake up, you goddamn stinking git!_ "

Someone was slapping his face.

"W…w-what?"

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him and the floor was shaking-the Hogwarts Express was moving again. Draco was by his side, his hands on Harry's chest, gripping onto his robes, looking down at him anxiously. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Harry was awake.

"Thank Merlin." Draco breathed. He didn't look that much better to Harry. His skin was paler than usual. The difference between the two was the fact Draco wasn't shaking.

"Quite a scare you gave us, pup."

Pup? There was only one person who called him that. Harry tilted his head back. Remus was standing over them, eyes tired, face marred with worry lines.

"Moony." he croaked, his throat dry.

"I wanted to wait until we got to the castle to give you your birthday present," The man smiled. "But things never go according to plan so…surprise."

His attempt at a joke was meant by an unimpressed Draco. Harry tried his best at a smile but there was barely enough energy in his body. He tried to pull himself off the floor only to fall back. He would have cracked his head if Draco hadn't caught him.

"Harry!"

"Here," Remus kneeled before them and pulled out a chocolate frog from the inside pocket of his blazer. "Eat this. It will help you feel better."

Harry took a small bite out of the chocolate and simply let it melt on his tongue. His mind was too buzzed to eat. "What was that?"

"A Dementor," Moony explained, giving a slight shudder. "One of the guards from Azbaneth. Nasty creatures, they are."

"What happened?"

"Lupin managed to draw the creature away," Draco said. He paused and then looked up at Remus, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Though I find it odd that you knew exactly where we were."

Remus met the accusation with a slight smile. "Call it instinct."

Draco wasn't convinced.

Remus turned his attention back to Harry as he stood up. "If you would excuse me, pup, I need to speak with the driver. But I will see you at the feast."

"Moony?" Harry had to ask before he left. "Did you happen to hear screaming?"

"Screaming?" Suspicions on Remus and his intentions were pushed aside as Draco gave him an odd look.

Remus smiled gently at him, though Harry saw that the surprise touching his eyes at the question. "We'll talk more about it when we get to the castle. In the meantime eat."

He strode off, disappearing from sight.

"Wait till Father hears about this!" Draco sneered. "All the money and donations, and the old goat can't pick a better train."

Letting the boy rant, Harry took a bite out of the chocolate, then another to calm his nerves. A ringing was echoing in his ears. His hands were still shaking. "Are you alright?"

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Other than the fact I nearly flew out of my seat, could have suffered a concussion, and feel like an icicle because of the freezing temperatures? I feel just dandy." His eyes softened as they met Harry's eyes. "What about you? You fell out of your seat and started twitching. It was like you were going into shock or something. Lupin barges in, mutters something under his breath and something silvery comes out of his wand. It turned around and glided away."

"I fell?" He didn't remember falling but given the flare of pain throbbing at the back of his head, he knew he didn't get it from just sitting. "Did the dementor affect you?"

"Other than making me feel like I would never be happy again, you mean?"

"Yea. That."

"Then no."

"So you didn't hear the screaming?"

Draco frowned at him. "There was no one screaming, Harry."

So Draco didn't hear her either.

While he didn't hear about anymore Dementor attacks, Harry saw that many of the students were shaken by the train delay as they filed out. Some because of the black-out, some because of the frigid temperature, others because of the luggage-falling and seat-flying. Theo had been one of them. He got hit by not one, not two, but three of Pansy's suitcases that fallen on his head.

"Each one weighted a bloody ton!" he complained during the carriage ride, rubbing his aching head. "What the hell do you have in them?"

"Shoes." At the incredulous look Theo gave her, Pansy said "You may be fine with only one pair of ratty knock-offs but some people like to have opinions."

"Three suitcases worth of them?"

"Oh don't complain, Notts. Your head needed flattening anyway."

Theo glowered at her. Pansy smiled innocently at him.

"Looks like the married couple are back at it." Blaise whispered.

Harry tried to stifle his chuckle. A smirk unfolded across Draco's face.

Almost as if they could hear them, Theo and Pansy looked over their shoulder and shot a glare.

The train delay didn't damper than excitement for the first-years eagerly awaiting sorting. A majority of them were split into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw gaining ten more ravens and Slytherin eight new snakes. After the sorting was done and the choir performance of a haunting tone that matched the darkness of the storm blowing outside, Dumbledore stepped forward.

"Welcome, welcome," he said. "To another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious I think it's best to get it out of the way before you can become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you all will be aware after their search of Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

They were the protection plan Minister Fudge was talking about.

Dumbledore went on to explain that they'll be stationed at every entrance at the school, adding that no one would be allowed to leave the school without permission.

"Harry? Hey Harry?"

He looked over his shoulder. Ron and Hermione were huddled together at the Gryffindor table that was right behind Slytherin.

"We heard what happened on the train," Hermione said. "Are you alright?"

"Is it true that you fainted?" Ron asked. "I mean actually fainted?"

Oh Merlin. Harry covered his hot-flushed face with his hands, groaning.

Beside him, Draco turned him back and sneered at them. "Mindless goons and nuisance gossips. Why am I not shocked?"

Harry could feel the anger rolling off Hermione, gathering together, ready to explode. She quickly turned herself and Ron around.

Harry felt a bit bad for his friends. After all they were worried about him, but still. "How many people know about the train thing?"

Silence rang among their friends, confirming his fears. Harry sank lower in his seat.

"Not too many," Theo said after what felt like a long minute. "Only about…two…three-quarters of the general population."

Lovely.

Pansy elbowed Theo hard in the side.

"Ow!" the boy yelped.

"Have I ever mentioned what a great comfort you are?"

"No."

"Good."

Theo scowled at her.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Blaise said. "By morning, everyone will forget all about your damsel-in-distress fall."

Harry rolled his eyes, but felt a small smile curling his lips. "Thank you, Blaise. You're a comfort."

He winked, raising his glass.

Draco was quiet. Harry looked up at him, surprised to see the hints of irritation flash through his eyes. And was more surprised to see that Blaise was the target of his sharp glare.

"Hey," Harry nudged him. "Are you alright?"

"Grand." he chirped, his tone flat.

Before Harry could ask him what was wrong, Dumbledore came back with more announcements.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Remus rose from his seat and took a slight bow, accepting the weak and scattered applause bestowed on him.

"Looks like someone's not happy." Draco whispered in his ear, pointing at Uncle Severus who was two seats away from Remus.

To say that the man was peeved would be a vast understatement. His black eyes were colder than usual, narrowed into slit pieces of ice. His fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles were white.

There had always been animosity between the two for as long as Harry could remember. However with Remus being appointed for the same job Uncle Severus had his eyes on practically forever, the tension between them was bound to thicken.

"And due to Professor Kettleburn's early retirement, Care of Magical Creatures will be handled by no other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Hagrid's announcement brought a warm, loud applause, most of which came from the Gryffindor table. Harry clapped just as hard as them, the only Slytherin doing so. The rest of the Slytherins weren't as impressed, Draco in particular who looked like he sucked a sour lemon.

"Merlin help us all." he muttered.

"Oh hush." Harry elbowed him.

"I understand that given the news of a wanted fugitive on the run and the arrival of our new guests that many of you may feel uneasy about the New Year. Many trials and tolls are bound to cross your way but you know," Dumbledore said. "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one remembers to turn on the light."

With that said, the feast commenced. Dishes and dishes of food popped onto the table. Goblets were filled to the brim of sweet fruity juice. Harry helped himself to every dish, filling his plate with steak and rice and chicken and pasta, having a second helping of chocolate cake.

"Hungry, darling?" Pansy teased.

Harry smiled sheepishly in return.

"Another year older and still a messy eater." Draco smirked.

Harry's smile twisted into a frown. Draco pointed to his nose. Harry glanced down, seeing frosting from the cake was smeared on his nose.

 _You've got to be kidding me_. Groaning, Harry reached over for a napkin. Before he touched it, Draco placed his finger underneath Harry's chin, turning his head over to him. Draco wiped the frosting off with his finger and licked it clean.

Heat crept up Harry's neck, burning his skin. Harry was glad he had his robes on otherwise he was sure his reddened skin would be out on full display.

"Mmm. Delicious." A mischievous glint glowed in his eyes.

"Um…" Harry turned his head back to his plate, filling his mouth with food, then washing it down with water. He still felt Draco's eyes watching him.

After the feast, the students rose from their seats and made their way to the doors. Few stayed behind to talk more with their friends or the teachers. Hermione chatted with Professor McGonagall. A small crowd was drawn around Hagrid, asking the giant how his class would be like and which creatures they would be studying. Lupin was talking to Professor Flitwick.

Harry walked over to him. Uncle Severus strode towards him, his face stone, blocking Remus from Harry's view.

"Harry." he drawled.

Harry ran a list through his head of all the things he could have done to attract his uncle's attention. Only one stood out. "You heard about what happened on the train, didn't you?"

"Lupin informed me of it, yes."

"Ah," Harry popped in awkwardly. "And you want to talk about it, don't you?"

A small smirk broke across the stony expression of the man's face. "Which is why you shall escort me to my office, where you will tell me more about it."

Harry had a feeling a polite decline wasn't an option. Sighing softly, he followed his uncle/Head of Slytherin house out of the Great Hall.


	16. Cloaks of the Past, Hoots of the Bird

Piles upon piles of papers and folders stuffed with more papers, along with quills dipped in globs of red ink were what greeted Harry as he stepped into Severus' chambers, seeing a mountain of work toppling his coffee table. On one hand he was surprised by the volume of papers since it was their first night back but the other hand he wasn't since his uncle wasn't one to go lightly on his students even on the first week.

"Trying to take a sneak peek at your upcoming assignments, brat?"

Harry had no idea he was peering through the contents of one of the folders until he heard Uncle Severus. Sheepishly, he closed the folder. "I wasn't peeking. I was just-"

His uncle cut him off with an arched brow. He set a tray containing tea down on the table and sat down in his favorite chair. Harry leaned forward to grab a cup but not before he saw a plate of sandwiches next to the tea kettle. Peanut butter and jelly stuffed with marshmallow fluff, his favorite. Feeling a smile spread across his face, he looked up at Severus, who took a sip of his tea, avoiding his eyes.

"My house elf apparently knew you would be arriving shortly and decided to indulge you."

Harry could have pointed out that he hasn't heard Tinky since he came in. That there were few people who knew of his favorite sandwich combinations and would go through the trouble of making it for him. However he knew his uncle despised anything threatening his reputation as the stoic Potions Master and decided to let the matter drop.

Even though he had eaten plenty at the feast, there was still room in his stomach to fix in a sandwich. Helping himself to one, he asked Severus "How was your summer, Uncle?"

"It wasn't entirely unpleasant," he said. "Though I am miffed that I didn't start on the school plans earlier. Seems the first week will be light for you lot."

Harry stared down at the mountain of papers stacked on the coffee table looking like they could easily be knocked down with one touch. If that was light, he was scared of what heavy-load meant for his uncle. "Who exactly is all that work for?"

"The first-years of course."

Harry sent a silent prayer for them.

"For your class, the third-years, I have ten times that amount in my office."

Dear Merlin. He sent a silent prayer for his class, especially for poor Neville who was already terrified of Potions as it was.

The grimace on Harry's face caused the left corner of Severus' mouth to lift slightly. "While I'm happy to see that lessons Narcissa has given you on etiquettes and pleasantry conversation are still intact, you should know that I see right through it."

So much for that plan. Harry was hoping if he got Severus to talk more about summer and his plans for Potions, the man would forget the reason why he called Harry to his chambers.

He finished his sandwich in several bites and played with the crusts, curling into a ball.

"Harry."

"I…" He dropped the crust ball onto the saucer, dusting off his hands. "I really don't know where to start."

"The beginning is usually a good place."

With a barely-suppressed eye-roll, Harry told Severus what happened on the train. How things started off normal with him and Draco looking over one of the books Narcissa had given him until the power suddenly went off. Feeling like he was drowning when the dementor came close to him. Severus' eyes narrowed when Harry told him how Remus offered them aid, chasing the dementor away, then the anger in his eyes vanished when he was told about the screaming.

"Screaming?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded. He couldn't say he was surprised that his uncle was astonished like Remus and Draco was by the screaming, but it didn't make feel him any better either. He felt more defeated. "Coming from a woman."

Severus' eyes narrowed. He hummed to himself, taking another sip of his tea, settling into his chair.

"Uncle Severus, what exactly are dementors?"

The man sighed heavily. "Dementors, Harry, are creatures that are not to be trifled with. Lupin wasn't aggravating when he said they were nasty creatures. Nor were Dumbledore's warnings meant to be taken lightly. They prey on fear and despair. With each step they crept closer to the victim, they strip them of every happy memory they possess until the victim is drowning in the depths of their own misery. If there was one thing worse than being close to a dementor, it is being kissed by them."

"Kissed by them?"

He nodded. "It is a technique Azkaban uses only for their most horrible prisoners. It's worse than dying. When one is kissed by a dementor, they not only strip away the memories of that person, but their soul itself, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind."

A shiver crawled up Harry's spine, making him squirm in his seat. "Can dementors….also make you hear certain things?"

Severus eyed him carefully. "If certain sounds are associated with unpleasant memories then yes. It's possible."

The woman's screaming unraveled in his head. Those horrible, terrified that seemed to go on forever, as if she were at the highest point of suffering a person could be in before death took them away. As if she wasn't just dying, but was moments away from execution.

Moments away from execution, pleading for mercy to be granted. Only…it wasn't mercy she wanted for herself.

" _Not Harry," she pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "Please I'll do anything-" She was cut off by a flash of green light that filled the room, hitting her chest._

Her final scream echoed through his mind once more.

"It was Mum," the words slipped out his mouth in a low whisper. He gripped onto the tea mug, needing its heat to warm up his hands that suddenly turned into ice. "She was the woman. She was the one I heard screaming."

Severus' eyes widened a fraction more, surprise appearing in them just as quickly as it vanished. He cast his gaze over to the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance, his hand wrapped securely around his mug.

Looking at the man, it was then that it occurred to Harry there could be the key to the answers he had been searching for. Answers to his questions. If there was any other person who knew more about what happened that night, it would be Severus.

The problem was could he ask? Severus hated remembering that night as much as Harry did. Would it be fair to make the man walk through memory lane when Harry himself was still shaken from the last visit?

Harry sucked in a deep breath and decided to go with his Gryffindor instincts. "Uncle Severus?" He waited until those black eyes were focused on him. "What exactly happened Halloween night?"

His uncle's face retained its usual stone-like exterior but Harry saw an extra thick layer was added to its foundation. "Just as you remember it, I'm sure."

Harry shook his head. This was going to be harder than he thought. "I don't really remember the aftermath. Or…much of the beforehand really. I remember…green light."

Severus was dripping onto the tea cup so tightly Harry could hear cracks breaking across the surface. His uncle took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Your parents knew they were in danger, Harry. I knew-" He took in another deep breath and continued on. "I knew they were planning on hiding. That night though I sensed something was wrong. It was a feeling that rocked every bone in my body, churning my stomach." His eyes snapped back to him. "Always trust and follow your instincts, Harry. Do you hear me?"

Harry nodded.

"I arrived at your house, hoping with everything in my being that I was wrong. That the feeling was just a feeling and nothing more," Severus sighed heavily. "I barely had to step through the door to know that I was right. Unfortunately, terribly right. I went inside hoping…to do something. I found your father first on top of the stairs. Then I found your mother with you in your room. You were the only one still standing. Or kneeling I should say. Yet you were so still, so quiet." Severus' eyes glanced over to him. "I was sure you were dead too."

He remembered his hand slipping from his mother's cold one as someone pulled him away from her, lifting him up.

"I took you to the Malfoy Manor because I knew there would be no safer place for you. Shortly after we departed, Black came to the house."

Shock slammed against Harry like a punch to the gut. "Sirius came to the house?"

Severus nodded. "Apparently he wanted to have a look for himself on how your parents bidded. He didn't stay long. He ran. Eventually Pettigrew caught up with him, and I already assume Fudge informed you of how he fared."

 _Not well_ , Harry thought. Pettigrew confronted Sirius and Sirius killed him, along with thirteen people.

"I've always known Black was a madman, but even I couldn't have predicted how deep his insanity ran."

"But," Harry said. "do you think Sirius actually did it?"

His uncle blinked once, his face unreadable. "I believe the evidence as well as his six-year vanishing act speaks for itself."

He made a good point there. The Aurors said so themselves they looked through every angle, coming to the same conclusion. The evidence pointed to only one answer. The years he spent on the run. The attack at the flea market that proved he was still mad. The fourteen-sixteen, counting his parents-bodies he left in his wake.

However, as much as it was clear, as much as the case seemed open-closed, something held Harry back. Made him hesitant.

"It's just...he was dad's best friend. He was-" Harry cut himself off, starting over again. "I've tried to wrap my head around it. I've tried to picture me and Draco being in that position and can never finish the thought because it's too painful."

His uncle didn't dismiss him. He stared at Harry, considering his words. He poured himself another cup of tea, then filled Harry's cup even though he didn't ask. "I cannot tell you what drove Black to do what he did. Your guess is as good as mine. What I can tell you is that fear obviously played a role in his actions."

"Fear?" Harry repeated.

Nodding his head once, his uncle said "Fear is a powerful weapon and enemy many foolishly underestimate. Its simplicity is what makes it so dangerous. It creeps behind you like a shadow, and then when you least expect it, clings onto you with its suffocating grip. Fear produces desperation. Desperation drives men to do unspeakable, unimaginable things to each other. It's how and why men can turn on family, on each other, and even on-"

"A best friend." Harry finished for him.

Severus nodded. Harry slumped in his seat, defeated. His questions haven't gained any answers. Only more questions.

"I have to say I'm amazed."

Surprised by the words, Harry looked over to Severus. "Amazed at what?"

"At the fact with each new school year, you manage to find yourself a new danger to get entangled with."

There was lightness in Severus' eyes that lessened the weight on Harry's shoulders, causing a small smile to lift the corners of his lips.

"I suppose I'm just too irresistible to trouble." he joked.

Severus scoffed, rolling his eyes. He felt his smile growing. "I see you're your father's son. Both of us drunk from the fumes of your delusion egos."

Harry smiled at that.

"It's getting late," he said. "You should get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow. I can already tell you you'll need it for Potions on Friday."

"I don't suppose you'll be giving out peanut-butter jelly and fluff sandwiches as a welcome present."

"No."

"How about for your favorite students then?"

His uncle pointed to the door. "Away with you, brat, before I give you detention."

Deciding not to push his luck, Harry finished his tea and made his way over to the door. But not before he walked over to Severus to hug him, catching the man off guard by the unexpected gesture. His was tense was a second or two before he slowly laid a hand on Harry's back, patting it gently.

"Thanks Uncle Severus."

"For what may I ask?"

"Just…for being you."

Harry might not have gotten the answers he wanted but he did leave Severus' chambers more light-hearted than he did walking in.

The light-heartedness continued later on that night in his dorm-room, where he laughed along with his friends as they watched Goyle pound on his chest with his fists, doing an impressive impersonation of a gorilla. Courtesy of the candy Crabbe brought over that featured over forty animal-pieces, along with some surprises, to choose from.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say it was fate, Goyle." Draco smirked.

Goyle opened his mouth to defend himself. What came out was a monkey's scream that made the friends laugh harder.

Blaise picked up the box and handed it over to Theo. "You're up, Notts. Pick a good one."

Theo plucked a piece from the box and popped it onto his mouth. Within seconds he curled himself into a ball, licking his left arm. Once he deemed it clean, he let out a satisfied meow.

The boys could barely keep themselves up, practically getting knocked down by their laughter.

"Someone-someone-" Blaise rasped, tears running down his cheeks. "Someone get Pansy. This is too good for her to miss."

Pansy left with Daphne an hour after to get settled in, claiming there was only much ninnies she could handle before she went insane.

Crabbe got up to make his way to door but a warning hissed from Theo brought him back to his seat.

Wiping tears away from his eyes, Harry picked a piece that instantly burnt his tongue. The heat spread throughout every angle in his mouth, building up like a volcano, causing smoke to smoke from his ears.

His friends were no help whatsoever, howling with laughter.

Blaise slung an arm around him. "Guess you're too hot, Potter."

"I suppose-" Harry cut himself off as coughs rattled his chest. "I suppose I am."

"Well the candy doesn't lie." Blaise winked, and immediately backed away as Draco shoved the box right into his face.

"Why don't you go next, Zabini?" The question was innocent but the look in Draco's eyes, as well as the snark in his tone, made it into a challenge.

"As much as I would love to, it's getting late."

Theo cast a quick Tempus. It was almost two in the morning. "Yea, we better go. We have Ancient Runes at eight."

After a round of goodbyes, the four Slytherins left, leaving the two best friends behind. Harry yawned into his fist as he climbed off the bed and walked over to his dresser to pick out some pajamas.

"Some night huh?"

Draco hummed in agreement, walking over to his closet to change. "Definitely stayed up later than expected."

Harry nodded, even though Draco couldn't see it. Their first class was at eight, and then they had three more right after that. He knew he was going to be a zombie tomorrow.

"Then again staying up with friends is harmless compared to…oh, I don't know. Sneaking away in the middle of night to go to your old house even though a madman is on the loose and could very well be hiding there."

Harry's next breath came sharp and winded, as if he was punched. He stood still for a second, gathering his thoughts, figuring out his next move before he looked over his shoulder.

Draco emerged from his closet, dressed for bed. His arms were folded against his chest _. Just try to lie to me_ , his narrowed glare said.  _Try and see where that gets you._

Harry could have, but he knew it would only be a wasted breath. "How long?"

Draco's left brow rose. "Shortly after I asked you where you went. I could smell Godric Hollow on you."

Smell Godric Hollow? Harry wondered what exactly it meant. Better yet what Godric Hollow smelt like? He wondered when Draco's senses have heightened. He knew, though, those were questions for another time.

"You shouldn't have gone there, Harry," Draco said. "For Merlin's sake, Black could have been there."

"It was something I had to do, Draco."

The blonde's face tightened. He looked like he understood why, but wasn't too happy that he did. "Black could have been there."

Harry shook his head. "He wasn't. I'd doubt he'd go there anyway. Think about it. That would be one of the first places Aurors would look. Besides, it's not like there was much to go back to. Voldemort made sure of that."

Draco, despite his anger and worry, flinched at the usage of the dark lord's name.

"And if he was there," Harry continued. "I could have taken him."

The question was would it have come to that? Would Sirius come at him? Would he have done so then? Severus said Sirius came to the house shortly after he took Harry away. He wondered what would have happened if his uncle hadn't came for him. Would Sirius try to finish off what Voldemort started?

"I could have taken him." he repeated, talking more so to himself than to Draco.

Draco said nothing. Harry took that as permission to continue rummaging through his dresser.

"You don't have to worry about taking or dealing with him."

Keeping quiet, Harry loosened his tie, taking the thing off his neck and tossing it onto his desk, and then turned his attention over to the buttons of his school-shirt he undid one by one.

"He's not going to hurt you."

Despite himself, Harry couldn't contain the smile spreading across his face as he rolled his eyes and turned over to his best friend, emerald-green smirking at familiar gray. "Of course he's not going to hurt me. You heard Dumbledore at dinner. The school is crawling with dementors. Even Sirius isn't that crazy to risk it."

With the last button undone, Harry exchanged his school-shirt for a red t-shirt, then threw on a pair of sweat-pants.

"That's not what I meant."

Harry rolled his eyes once more and crawled into his bed, settling himself into the nest of blankets and duvet covers. He heard Draco climb into bed with him, throwing his arm around his waist.

"Black isn't going to come within ten feet of you because you're _mine_."

A shiver vibrated through his body as heat curled in the pit of Harry's stomach, one that just as hot as the heat he experienced when he ate the candy. He was Draco's and Draco was his. It was a mantra they've always told each other since they were kids. But now it seemed…different. It sounded different. Not quite as innocent as it was before.

"You're mine and I'll make the dementors seem like fireflies if Black even tries to come near you."

The heat brimming in his body vented out into the atmosphere, thickening the air. Harry was almost scared to move, mindful of the sudden tension.

He opened his mouth to speak but froze as he felt Draco's warm breath brushing against back of his neck. Right before he felt his lips touch his neck, at the spot where his pulse pounded elatedly, causing his next breath to get caught in his throat. His hand gathered his blanket into a fist, as if it could beat the heat swirling inside him, making feel almost delirious.

"Sleep well, Harry."

He peered over his shoulder. Familiar gray took on a vivid silver shine.

* * *

By Wednesday Draco was through with school, missing the care-free mood of summer where he had Florence, the beach, and Harry all to himself. He dreaded the moment when he had to leave the comfort of his warm bed for a stuffy classroom. Dreaded the piles of homework and assignments that were building up like a volcano that needed his attention. A twelve-page paper due Friday for Transfiguration, a ten-page paper for Charms, a quiz next week to study for with a test right after.

His annoyance deepened as they were dismissed from Charms and left the safety of the castle for the barbarity of the Forbidden Forest, where the first day of Care of Magical Creatures was taking place.

Armed with his Monsters book that was snarling in his arm, Draco took a bite of his apple, following the oaf as he led the class down the hill.

"What are the chances of me getting out of this?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Quit complaining, Draco. Hagrid is going to be a great teacher."

Draco scoffed. Knowing the oaf, disaster was bound to happen. He was sure of it.

As they continued walking, Draco couldn't help noticing the number of glances aimed towards their direction. More so to Harry, who caused the glances to turn to whispers as they walked by them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"No ide-"

"Harry!"

Draco barely suppressed a groan as the insect came towards them with the weasel right behind her.

"There's something we need to tell you." The weasel said.

"Quite frankly I believe its rubbish," Granger said. "But I think it's something you should know nevertheless."

She grabbed Harry's hand and yanked him forward, pulling him towards the Gryffindors and away from Draco, who was dissecting her with his eyes.

"Something troubling you, Malfoy?" Blaise asked.

Draco directed the glare over to his friend, very tempted to punch that smirk of his in. "Shut it, Zabini."

"Gather around," the giant said, gesturing for them to form a circle around the paddock. "Gather around, all of you."

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Granger grinned at Harry, her arm entwined around his. Very tightly much to Draco's annoyance.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he watched the insect lean closer to Harry.

"Now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-"

"And how exactly do we do that?" Draco demanded.

"Well, stroke it of course." The giant said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Watch."

He took Granger's copy and ripped the Spellotape she wrapped around it. The book tried to bite, but the giant ran a finger down its spine. The book shivered, and then fell open, lying quietly in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Draco snapped. "We should have stroked them. Why didn't we guess?"

"I-I thought they were funny." The oaf's smile fell off his face.

Draco snorted, igniting snickers and eye-rolls among his housemates.

"I think they're funny." Granger said, glaring at him.

"Oh yea," he commented, his loud voice attracting his classmates' attention. "Terribly funny. Really witty."

Granger shot him a withering look.

"God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait till my father hears about Dumbledore letting this oaf teaching classes."

His friends joined him in a round of snickers.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Harry stepped away from Granger, slipping out of her hold, and towards him. Emerald-green were back at where they were supposed to be: focused on him, blazing like jeweled pieces.

Feeling his lips curl into a smirk, Draco handed his bag over to Crabbe and strode over to Harry. The students cleared a path for him, parting like the red sea, as if they would get knocked down by him.

Idiots. The only person worth his attention was his best friend.

The distance between them grew smaller with every step Draco took towards him. Biting his lip, Draco's eyes swept over his body, seeing hints of muscle beginning to form in the lean figure, the hair that was styled in its usual wildness and eyes that were a breathtaking shade of green featuring a glint that shoot through one to another. Being close to him, Draco saw the glint that sparked in those breathtaking eyes wasn't anger per say but something just as fiery. A glint that made Harry took in a shallow, quiet breath as Draco closed the distance between them, causing a pink tongue to slip from his mouth and lick his bottom lip.

Draco watched the motion, mesmerized. He remembered how soft that lip was. He remembered how it tasted, along with that pink ton-

"Dementor!"

"What?" Hannah Abbot shrieked. "Where?"

Annoyed that the moment with Harry was broken but always in the mood for mischief, Draco decided to join in on the fun. Pointing his finger to the trees in front of him, he cried "Dementor! Dementor!"

Panicked, the students looked over. Harry stood in front of Draco, hand placed over his wand, like he was ready for a fight.

By the time Harry, along with the others, turned around, the Slytherins were in position, pulling their hoods over their heads, curling their fingers at the students like they were ghosts.

"Hooooooo." They moaned.

"Goddamn snakes." A Gryffindor angrily cried.

Ignoring the remark, Draco turned over to Harry. He was scowling at him. Clearly he didn't think the joke was that funny.

 _That just won't do_ , he thought, walking over to him. "Your gracious queen is touched by your devotion to protect and serve, brave knight."

Harry looked like he wasn't sure if he should be annoyed by Draco's actions or amused by his words. The smile Draco gave him steered him to the latter direction, causing the boy to roll his eyes and the right corner of his lips to lift into a smile.

"Simply fulfilling my royal duties." he said.

"What the hell is that?" Blaise nodded to the front.

Trotting towards them was one of the most bizarre creatures Draco had ever seen, which was truly saying something. It had the body, hind legs, and tail of a horse but the front legs, wings, and head of a giant eagle with a cruel, steel-colored beak and large orange eyes. The talons on the front legs was a half-foot long and deadly-looking. The beast had a thick collar tied around its neck, which was attached to a long chain being tugged on by the giant.

"I give you Buckbeak. A hippogriff!" the giant roared happily. "Beautiful, isn't he?"

Beautiful wasn't quite the word Draco was going for.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

"Going down in history as the idiot who got mauled by an over-grown chicken." Draco whispered in Harry's ear. Harry choked down a sound that sounded almost like a chuckle, lightly elbowing him.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," the giant continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, and yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt." He rubbed his hands together. "Right-who wants ter go first?"

Almost everyone took a step back. Everyone except for Harry that is who didn't realize it until the oaf called on him.

"Outta boy, Harry. Come on up."

Shooting Draco a pleading look, Harry took slow steps towards the bird.

"Easy now, Harry," the oaf said. "Yeh've got to eye contact, now try not ter blink. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

The bird turned his sharp, great head and was staring at Harry with one fierce, orange eye. It crowed, a loud and nasty sound that spread panic among the students as he walked over to Harry.

Draco watched the scene attentively, ready to swoop in things got nasty. If Harry got hurt because the oaf's bad judgment, then he wouldn't have to worry about Father's wrath at all. Draco's would be more than enough to incinerate him.

The bird crowed louder in its final steps. Beside him, Pansy gasped softly, just as anxious as he was over their friend. She leaned back into the nearest person, brushing her hand against that person's.

That same person who just happened to be Theo. Both glanced down at their hands that were close to one another, fingers brushing fingers, and quickly pulled away from each other, red coloring their cheeks as they turned the other direction.

Meanwhile Harry gave a short bow and looked up.

The hippogriff was still, staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," the giant said. "Right-back away, now, Harry. Easy does it."

To everyone's surprise, the hippogriff bent its scaly front knees and sank into a what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry! Well done!" the oaf cheered. "Right-yeh can touch him! Go on!"

Sighing in relief, Harry moved slowly towards the creature and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, especially Draco who pleased that his best friend was in one piece.

"Righ' then, Harry. I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Draco's applause immediately stopped as he heard the words.  _What?!_

Harry looked just as stunned as he was. "Hagrid, I'm not sure-"

"Nonsense." The giant grabbed him and dropped him on the hippogriff's back. Harry barely had time to hold on before the bird raced across the field, taking off into the sky.

"Wow!"

"Check it out!"

Crabbe placed his fingers under his tongue and blew a loud whistle, igniting cheers all around.

"He looks amazing." Granger grinned.

 _Not amazing, Granger,_  Draco corrected in his mind.  _Brilliant._  That was the only word he could use to describe how stunning Harry looked up there. Arms spread out, the sun lightening the golden specks in his eyes, the wind running through his hair, the look of utter joy on his face. He looked brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

When the bird came back, Harry petted its head and climbed off, stumbling a bit as he landed on his feet.

"Well done, Harry!" the oaf grinned, and then in close to the boy to whisper to him.

Shoving students out of his way, Draco strutted over to them, wanting a piece of the success. After all if Harry could tame the beast, then surely he could do the same.

"I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said. "You great ugly brute."

Draco wasn't sure how happened. All he knew was that it happened in a flash of steely talons. He let out a high-pitched scream as pain clawed its way up his arm and the next moment the oaf was tugging the creature away by its chain while he lay in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"Buckbeak, heel! Stay!" It crowed in response. The oaf tossed a fish over to the trees. The bird followed it. "Away with you, you silly creature."

"Oh, it's killed me!" Draco yelled, clutching onto his arm as the class panicked. "It's killed me!"

"Calm down. Yeh alright." The oaf told him. Only he didn't sound as convinced.

"Hagrid!" He heard Granger's voice over the commotion. "He needs to be taken to the hospital."

 _Thank you for stating the obvious, insect._  Draco would have snapped at her if he wasn't being eaten alive by the pain.

"I'm the teacher. I'll do it." The oaf leaned down and scooped him into his arms, carrying him like he was some damsel in distress. "Class dismissed."

"You're going to regret this," Draco swore. "You and your bloody chicken."

Thankfully nothing was severely damaged other than his ego which took a hard hit. A very hard, sharp-clawed hit. According to Madame Pomfey, the blasted bird hadn't broken any bones or caused swelling. He did, however, cause Draco enough agony that required a cast, and forced him to swallow down a nasty-tasting potion to numb the pain so she could set the cast properly.

"I hope you'll take this incident as a lesson, Mr. Malfoy," she snapped. "Hippogriffs are no joking matter."

 _Oh sure,_  Draco thought with an eye-roll.  _Blame the victim._  It was apparently his fault that the beast brutally attacked him. "Do I need to remind you I nearly lost my arm?"

The nurse scoffed a she tied up the rest of his bandages. "Lost an arm my foot. It's just a scratch."

Draco stared at her, stunned.  _A scratch?_  She called the thick wound that went from his wrist to his forearm a scratch?

The sounds of footsteps drew their attention over to the door. Harry's appearance brought a smile to Draco's face and a frown to Madame Pomfey's.

"Mr. Potter, you know I have a strict policy on visiting hours."

"I know," Harry confessed. "but I wanted to make sure Draco was alright. You wouldn't deprive a poor patient from the concern of a dear friend, would you?"

Draco stifled a chuckle. There were times Harry showed his Gryffindor side and others, like now, when he showed he could be a cunning Slytherin.

Madame looked like she wanted to protest, but in the end gave in, simply rolling her eyes and muttering to herself as she walked away.

"You know when Blaise said there would be something else to top the dementor attack; I don't think he meant Buckbeck and you being the top contender."

Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out, Draco scowled at him. "Sure, Potter, mock my pain. Ignore the fact I could have met a painful, feathery demise."

"I say it's justified payback for nearly scaring everyone with that dementor prank." Harry gave him a pointed look. Draco pretended not to notice, playing with the flaps of his robes. Harry walked over to the bed and set his bag on the floor. "I have a surprise for you."

A surprise? Draco brightened at the word, scooting over to him. "What kind of surprise?"

"A spell actually," Harry smiled at him. "One that fits the occasion."

"What sort of spell?"

"A healing one."

Draco raised his eyebrows at him. Harry only smiled and instructed him to close his eyes. Deciding to humor him, Draco complied, squirming a bit as he felt Harry sprinkle something soft and light onto his bandaged arm.

" _Abracada-abracadi. Abracada-abracadone. Abracada, boo-boo be gone."_

He should have been ticked off by the smell of powder Harry was peppering his arm with. It wasn't until Draco heard the "magical" words did he begin to realize what Harry was up to. By the time he caught up, he was at the boy's mercy, getting the life tickled out of him.

"Get off me, you silly git!" The fire in his demand was being diminished by his laughter.

" _Boo-boo be gone. Boo-boo be gone_." Harry dropped soft kisses onto his bandaged arm, mindful of the injury.

Draco saw a small bag containing golden-glittery white powder lying on the bed. He grabbed a handful of it and tossed it into Harry's face. With the brunette caught off guard, Draco turned the tables around, having Harry at his mercy, tickling his stomach with his free hand.

"Okay, okay, okay," Harry laughed. "I give, I give, I give."

"Smart boy," Draco smirked, taking back his hand. Harry glared at him as he tried to catch his breath. "Though you really should have known better."

"Says the one who's bedridden because he irritated a proud hippogriff."

Touché. Draco stuck his tongue out at him.

"Besides," Harry said as he dusted the powder off himself. "It worked, didn't it? It made you feel better."

Draco was just as stumped for a response as he was when he was six and Harry came up with the spell. Just like then, he retaliated by grabbing more of the powder and smearing it onto his face and hair before tickling him again.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Harry protested, slapping his hand away. "Stinking prat."

"And you're an insufferable git. We make such a great pair." Draco winked.

Harry grumbled under his breath but accepted Draco's invitation when he gestured for the boy to join him in the bed, scooting over to the right to make some room. Mindful of Draco's arm, Harry laid his friend against his chest and stroked his hair.

Draco sighed in contentment. There was no other feeling quite like Harry stroking his hair. It was definitely more relaxing any comb or brush spell he knew. The touch was so gentle; it nearly put him to sleep.

He raised his head slightly as a thought occurred to him, a smirk curling his lips as he looked up at his friend. "I just realized something."

Harry raised a brow at the smirk, suspicious. "What?"

"I won our little tickle battle," Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes. Draco swatted his arm playfully. "I'm owed a prize."

Harry leaned back into the pillows. "Well, what do you want?"

Draco's eyes drifted from Harry's eyes to his lips, considering their shape and remembering their softness as he leaned in closer.

The click-clack sound of a cane meeting the floorboards broke the friends apart and directed their attention over to the door, where Lucius Malfoy stepped through.

He stopped short as he took in their appearance, seeing their clothes and hair and the bed was dusted with powder, raising a brow at their current state as well as their closeness. The sharp brow on his face brought Draco back to the time they were eight and ran inside the house after playing outside in the rain-slick gardens. They were covered in mud, and all it took was an arched brow from Father to send them running up to the bathroom.

"You know," he said. "I had a feeling, despite my hopes, I would be called to the school about you two. The last two years after all speak for themselves. However I didn't think that I would be called-within the third day back I might add-because my ward somehow became a magnet for dementors just as my son became one for hippogriffs."

Oh Merlin. Draco traded a look with Harry, who looked as sheepish as he felt.

"So," Father snapped his fingers and a chair zoomed over to him. He sat down and settled his cane onto his lap. "do you boys care to explain what happened after you boarded the train?"


	17. Facing Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider it an early Christmas present and for you guys being so sweet: another 4 more chapters.

There were hundreds of rumors surrounding his father. Actually, not hundreds. More so thousands. Out of the thousands circling there was fraction Draco found to be downright ridiculous, such as the ones about his anger. Lousy reporters who shouldn't be permitted to hold a quill described Lucius Malfoy's anger as the apocalypse. The ground shaking from his screams that were loud as bursting through the cracks and creaks as he closed in on the source of his anger.

If the idiots did their homework, they'd realize how off they were. Father's wrath wasn't an apocalypse. It was a storm. One that crept in quietly, building in pressure. His arched brows and narrowed eyes clues to the severity of his anger. Tension stirring in the atmosphere, tightening with every passing second.

The storm began to brew when Harry started off, going over what happened on the train. Father's left brow arched, then the right. The storm picked up the pressure when Draco told him of what took place in Creatures class. He was fine telling Father the whole truth of the attack, but the sharp jabs Harry delivered to his uninjured side insisted that he did some "revision"

By the time all was said and done, the boys braced themselves for what was to come

Father took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning into his chair. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his pocket-watch, flipping the lid open. "Three days," he said. He snapped the watch shut and the sound caused the guys to flinch. "Three days is how long it took for me to retrieve word that you two managed to get yourself into trouble. Again."

Harry winced and shared a look with Draco.

"I must say that it's a world record. Last year I didn't receive a letter until the following month. It would seem that your uncle owes me twelve galloons."

 _What?_  The boys looked at him, turned to each other, and then looked back at him.

Harry was the one who asked the question. "You and Severus bet on us?"

Father shrugged with one shoulder. "You boys have your way of entertaining yourselves. We have our own."

Draco shook his head, amused. Harry muttered, "Just wow."

"Let's get back to the task at hand." Father said. "You are well, Harry?" He nodded. "Any more dementors attacks?" He shook his head and Father nodded. "Well, glad to see that Dumbledore can actually manage to do some things right." His cool gray eyes drifted over to Draco. "Then again perhaps I shouldn't call the kettle black just yet."

Draco's mouth rose slightly in amusement. Harry's dropped.

"I'm told that Dumbledore appointed the gamekeeper as the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures. Is this true?"

Harry gave him a hesitant nod.

"And he decided that the class should learn about hippogriffs, even though they have a reputation for not being the most…friendliest of creatures."

That's one way of putting it. "Yes." Draco was quick to reply.

Father pursued his lips as he twisted his cane. "You know? I've expressed my concerns over Dumbledore's control of the school. Or lack of. Seems the oaf and his little bird are all the proof I need. In fact," The left corner of his mouth rose slightly. "I think I may have a little chat with Minister Fudge."

"Uncle Lucius, please no!" Harry said. "It's not Dumbledore's or Hagrid's fault. It isn't Buckwheat's fault either."

"It isn't?" Father and son asked in disbelief. Father over Dumbledore's involvement, Draco's over the bird.

"No, it isn't." Harry insisted, turning over to Draco, his eyes hard. "Right Draco?"

"The bandaged arm says otherwise, Potter."

"Your smart mouth earned you that arm, Malfoy."

"Boys." The firmness in Father's voice called for a cease and desist.

 _If Hagrid or Buckwheat get in trouble because of you, Draco_ , Harry's green eyes blazed.  _So help me..._

"I suppose…" Draco said. "I might have been a bit dramatic."

"A bit?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

"Don't push your luck, Potter." he warned.

Father's eyes shifted from him to Harry and back again.

Feeling Harry's glare boring holes into his neck, Draco inwardly groaned as he said "As fond as I am of roast chicken-" He bit his lip as Harry dug his elbow deep into his side, shooting him a glare. "It would seem rash, Father, if you took action against a minor,"  _And painful_. "incident. You already know what most of the Ministry thinks of us. And knowing the old goat, he could use say that we're creating publicity."

Father was silent for a long time. Finally, with a slight nod, he said "I will look into it and let you know what I decide."

 _Happy?_  Draco nudged Harry with his good arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, which Draco took as a sarcastic  _Ecstatic._

"Well I best be going, boys," Father stood from the chair and straightened his coat. He gave him a faint, amused smile. "If I were you two, I would write to Narcissa. She heard about the incidents and it would be within your best interest to tell her of your conditions. By tonight."

 _Oh shite._  The boys turned to each other, wearing identical grimaces. When Draco was released from the hospital wing, one of the first things they did was write to Mother, urging their owls to get to Malfoy Manor immediately.

Having a cast was a setback and a blessing. Well, he wouldn't go as far to say a blessing, but it did come with benefits that evened out the setbacks. Having one arm meant he couldn't play Quidditch. It also meant he was restricted to certain activities and needed help for others. The teasing he had to endure from not only his friends but most of the school about his chicken episode. Those were the setbacks. The benefits almost made up for them. The weather was starting to get dreadful and with him on the sidelines, he didn't have worry about wearying himself out or ruining his hair. The entertaining rumors circling around about Father's decision that will determine the oaf and bird's fates. Best of all, he had a servant to wait on him.

"Make sure you cut the fig roots evenly, Harry." Draco instructed during Potions, sitting by the sidelines while Harry was working on the assignment. He shot his best friend a sweet smile when he raised his head from the roots to glare at him.

"Keep testing me and I'll cut you evenly." Harry threatened.

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. It would be of poor show if you murdered your dearly beloved friend and roommate. I don't think Uncle Severus would be too pleased. Nor would my parents."

Harry shot him another glare. "Please remind me why I tolerate you."

"Because you love me so much."

"And I question why each day."

Draco propped his elbow up on the table and laid his head into his palm. "Because I'm so pretty."

Harry tried to fight it down, to keep it down, but Draco saw a small hint of a smile raising the right corner of his mouth. The sight caused a pleasant buzz to hum in his chest.

Harry shook his head and said, "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Thank you."

"Arse."

Draco blinked, taken back by the comment. Then his eyes narrowed when he recognized the voice.

Weasley.

The redhead glared at him three tables away. Unfortunately for Weasley, someone else heard him too.

"Is there something you wish to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Weasley?"

Blood drained from the fool's face when he realized Severus was right behind him, cutting him into pieces with those black eyes. "No sir."

"Really?" A terrible smile twisted his godfather's face. "Are you lying to me?"

"Yes-no-wait! I mean-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

"What?"

"Would you rather I make it twenty?"

Granger cupped his mouth before he cost their house any more points. Too bad for her, the action gained her the opposite effect.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor. An additional five points will be taken since it seems that Ms. Granger is incapable of keeping her hands to herself."

" _What?!_ " the girl yelped.

 _I knew there was a reason why I liked Fridays_ , Draco thought.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Draco, before Hermione finds a way to knock it off for you." Harry said.

The idea of the insect actually touching him, much less throwing a punch, was so incredulous it was laughable. Snorting, Draco replied, "I'd love to see her try."

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

The following Monday, Draco found himself in the Great Hall with his friends during free period. He was reading a section for Charms when he felt pain throbbing in his arm. Biting down a curse, he rotated his shoulder to take his mind off the pain.

Pansy caught on to his discomfort. "Are you alright, Draco?"

"It's just the arm. It hurts," he answered. "But it's better than having no arm. If it wasn't for Madame Pomfey, I would have lost it for sure."

A barely-suppressed snort rose. Eyes narrowing, he looked up at Blaise who was struggling to keep his laughter down. "Something to say, Zabini?"

Blaise took in a deep breath, his body shaking from the laughter he was keeping in. "I was just remembering your great words as you went down, Malfoy."

"' _It's killed me!_ '" Goyle yelped, clutching his arm, doing a horrible impression of his voice. As horrible as it was, it made the rest of them laugh. Even Theo was smirking as he turned the pages of his book.

Blaise wiped a teardrop from his eye. "A moment for the ages, I swear."

"More like the centuries." Pansy giggled.

Draco glowered at them.

"Fun times wouldn't you say, Potter?" Blaise asked. "Hey? Potter?"

Draco turned over to the left, ready to elbow his best friend for not backing him up. He saw the boy's attention was focused on something else.

Or someone else he should say.

Cho Chang, a fourth-year Ravenclaw. A fairly decent Quidditch player. Smart girl. Draco supposed she was appealing to the eye with her shiny black hair, her bright almond-shaped eyes, and pretty face. However she was nothing to drool over.

Harry didn't seem to think so if the blush on his cheeks and nauseating, puppy-love smile had anything to say about it. A nauseating smile that grew as the girl giggled at what her friend told her.

Swallowing down the hot irritation that pricked his chest, Draco said, "Should I get you a bib, Potter, before you drool all over your sweater?"

Harry blinked, and then again, the love-struck haze disappearing from his eyes to Draco's great relief. "Huh? What?"

"So Chang, huh?" Blaise smirked, deepening Harry's blush and Draco's irritation.

"It's nothing." Harry insisted.

"The look on your face says other-"

" _Sirius Black has been spotted!_ "

All thoughts of Chang and Harry's blushing flew out the window as Finnegan stormed into the Great Hall, wildly waving the Daily Prophet in his hand. He rushed it over the Gryffindor table and slammed it down.

Granger's low, uneasy voice was almost as loud as thunder in the suddenly-quiet room, students anxious to hear of the news. "It says here he's been spotted in Dufftown. That's not far from here."

"Sweet Merlin." Weasley wheezed.

"You don't think he'll come here, do you?" Longbottom asked. "I mean, with the Dementors-"

"The dementors?" Finnegan repeated, stunned. "You don't think the Ministry hasn't already used that for him? They have and he escaped them multiple times. Who's to say he won't do it again?"

"He's right," agreed a heavyset, dark-skinned Gryffindor. "Black could be anywhere. It's like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."

The Hall exploded in frantic whispers. Draco turned back to Harry, who was staring down at his Ancient Runes homework like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. His face was white as a sheet. "Harry?"

"I'm fine."

"Why don't we go to the common room, darling?" Pansy suggested. "It's getting stuffy in here anyway."

"Oh is that what it is? I just thought it was your perfume." Theo said, and then winced as Pansy took a swing at his shin.

"Really guys, I'm fine." Harry said.

Problem was none of them were convinced, especially Draco who could read his best friend like a book. He saw the fear swirling in Harry's eyes. He was already nervous by divination teacher's prediction of death coming for him. News about Black's appearance was only bound to change anxiety into fear.

* * *

Harry was aware of his friends' concern for him. Hermione and Ron have been sending him worried glances since free period. Pansy and Blaise tried to distract him with their plans for Hogsmead. Theo was trying to make him a list of books he finished that he insisted were must-reads. Draco watched him closely, too closely, like he was waiting for a breakdown. Or for danger to come barreling through the doors.

He understood his friends' concern. Really he did and he appreciated it. It showed that he had a group of loyal friends looking out for him. However, as much as he appreciated it, he wished they'd understand that there was nothing to worry about. He didn't want to think about Sirius despite the questions circling his head. He didn't want to think about Trelawney's omen prediction, despite Ron's insistence that he looked into it while Hermione thought it was all rubbish.

He chose to think about the texture of the chicken sandwich he was having for lunch, and then the following his friends to their next class. A flash of excitement surged through his body as he walked into the DADA classroom and saw Remus waiting at the back of the room, greeting them with a warm smile. His smile brightened when he caught Harry's eye.

It was odd to Harry how little he saw of the man since school started. Then again Harry couldn't say it was all Remus' fault. They were both busy. Remus with settling in and his lesson plans. Harry with school, Quidditch, his friends, trying to keep Pansy from killing Theo and vice versa, and trying to keep Draco from killing Hermione and vice versa.

"Gather around, everyone. Come on. Don't be shy."

There was no desks or chairs in the room. It was a bit chilly and dim with some light coming from the only window in the room. Remus was standing next to an old wardrobe. As students came closer, the wardrobe made a wobbling sound.

"Does Lupin plan to tell us about Narnia?" Draco murmured in Harry's ear.

Harry bit his lip to hold in his chuckle, surprised by the Muggle reference Draco made. They hadn't read the books in ages. He looked up at the blonde and saw the pleased smirk curling his lips.

"Welcome, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Remus Lupin."

The introduction was met by the same shattered applause it gained the first time around. Just like then, Remus was unfazed by it.

"I noticed that some of you were anxious by the rattling of your little friend," The closet wobbled again, louder this time, causing some students to jump in alarm. "Nothing to worry about. Only a boggart."

If Remus meant for those words to be comforting, it gained him the opposite effect. Neville gave him a look of pure terror. Seamus moved closer to Dean, eyeing the rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"First question," Remus said. "What is a boggart?"

Hermione put her hand up, answering, "It's a shape-shifter that can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us the most."

"Excellent, my dear. Five points to Gryffindor." Hermione glowed from the praise. "They are frightening creatures, no doubt, but I will teach you a charm that can be used against them. It's simple but requires focus. Force of the mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume the shape that you find amusing."

Some students were still skeptical but that didn't faze Remus.

"Repeat after me.  _Riddikulus!_ "

" _Riddikulus!_ " the class said together.

"Once more.  _Riddikulus!_ "

" _Riddikulus!_ "

"This class is ridiculous." Draco drily muttered. Harry elbowed him.

"Neville," Remus called. "Why don't we start with you?"

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville who walked forward as though he was heading to the gallows.

"Right Neville," Remus said. "First things first. What would you say is the thing that frightens you the most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry."

Neville looked around wildly, as if he was begging someone to help him, then said in a low whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed, including Harry who couldn't keep the chuckles down. Remus looked both thoughtful and amused.

"Yes, well, he frightens us all…hmm..Neville, I believe you like with your grandmother, correct?"

"Er-yes."

"I want you to picture your grandmother clothes."

"Well, she has a red handbag-"

Remus waved his hand, cutting the boy off. "No, no, no. I want you to picture it in your mind. Can you see them?"

"Yes…" Neville said hesitantly.

"When the boggart bursts out of the wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the shape of Professor Snape. You will raise your wand and cry 'Riddikulus' and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. As for the rest of you, I would like for you to take a moment and think about the thing that scares you the most. Then imagine how you might force it to look comical."

The room went quiet. Harry thought on it.

Voldemort was an obvious choice-a Voldemort returned to full strength. Strong, powerful, wanting his head on a spike. Then again, there was also Sirius. Not the godfather he reminded but the lunatic that was on the Ministry's hit-list. An alleged traitor who was blood-thirsty, mad, and after Harry's head as well.

Remus called Neville to perform the spell. He looked frightened. To be blunt, the poor boy looked like he was trying hard not to wet himself. But still he held out his wand.

"On the count of three. One, two, three. Now!"

A jet of sparks from the end of Remus' wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Uncle Severus stepped out in his menacing glory, black eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, wrist shaking, mouthing wordlessly. Uncle was bearing upon him, reaching inside his robes.

" _R-R-Riddikulus!_ " he yelped.

There was a noise like a cracked whip. The boggart Severus stumbled. A second he was in his standard black robes. The next he was in a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, swinging a huge crimson handbag.

Laughter shook the room, filling the air.

"Moments like this, I wish we had cameras on us." Harry said in between chuckles.

"I do not want to be Longbottom when Uncle hears of this."

"You think he'll find out?"

Draco gave him a sly smile that said  _Doesn't he always?_

"Parvati! Forward!" Remus cried.

She walked forward, her face set. Severus rounded on her. Another crack and where he stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy. Its sightless face turned to Parvati and began to walk slowly towards her, dragging its feet, raising its stiff arms.

" _Riddikulus!_ " she cried.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet. It became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Well done! Well done!" Remus grinned.

A line began to form, wands out, faces set in concentration and excitement. Remus spelled an old reorder to go off, playing a merry tune that marched the enthusiasm of the room.

Seamus stepped up. His boggart started out as a banshee whose wail made the hairs of Harry's arms and neck stand up.

" _Riddikulus!_ "

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat, her voice gone.

When Ron stepped forward, no one was surprised by the appearance of a gigantic spider crawling out of the door.

" _Riddikulus!_ "

Roller-blades appeared on all eight legs. One false step and the boggart sprawled on the floor, its entangled legs wildly waving in the air.

Theo's boggart was a herd of bats that rushed forward to him. With a wave of his wand and a cry of the chant, the bats turned into loose pages of a book.

"Why am I not surprised?" Pansy muttered.

As if he could hear her, Theo shot the girl a death glare as he came back. 'Course he got his own kicks when Pansy's boggart turned out to be a mime.

"It's ironic." he said with a smirk as she came back, turning her mime into a shrieking tiny pixie.

"What's ironic?" she demanded.

Theo's smirk widened, sharp as a blade. "That the thing you fear the most has the one ability you seem to lack."

"Which would be?"

"Keeping their mouth shut."

Pansy punched his arm so hard; Harry and the others winced, feeling the searing pain vibrating through the muscle, rushing down the arm.

"Son of a-" Theo bit his lip down to deal with the pain.

"Arse."

"Like I said," Blaise smirked. "More entertaining than any show Mother has taken me to."

When Harry's turn came up, he rose his wand, the charm hanging off his tongue. He already thought of ways of how he would alter the dark lord's appearance. All those thoughts came to a halt as a decayed hand crept through the door.

Harry's next breath was caught in his throat.

Followed by that decayed hand were black robes and a hood.

Harry took slow steps back as the dementor slipped out, looming over him. He heard gasps and frantic movement behind him, but sounds buzzed like background noise as the dementor leaned down and took in a long breath.

He felt the cold pouring in like rushing water, filling his chest, pulling him under-

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Silver light gleamed from the corner of his eye and the dementor drew back, retreating into the wardrobe.

It may have been gone but it left behind a mark in the classroom. The warm and cheerful atmosphere from earlier was ice-cold, filled with tension and fear. Harry felt more than a dozen pair of eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

"Alright everyone," Remus tried to tap into the same calm tone he had earlier but it was hard not to hear anxiety twisting his voice. "Class dismissed."

The frantic glances grew to hushed whispers.

"Class dismissed." Remus repeated, his voice firmer.

There was a moment of hesitation before feet shuffled, moving slowly towards the door. Harry didn't turn around. His eyes were still locked on the wardrobe, watching it rattle, picturing the dementor creeping inside.

"Pup," Remus was by his side in an instant, hand on his shoulder. "Class is over."

Harry finally managed to draw his eyes away from the wardrobe over to his uncle, seeing concern in the man's tired eyes.

"Why don't you go off with your friends? Get some homework done?"

Harry nodded and tired to smile. His smile fell as he walked out the classroom.

Later on that night Harry tried to focus on homework. McGonagall wanted them to turn a jar of raisins into beetles for next class. Severus assigned them a ten-page research paper. For Ancient Runes, they had to decrypt a dozen symbols. He had the books and notes spread out on his desk. He had a quill in his hand that was dipped in fresh black ink. But he couldn't concentrate. His mind was still on what happened in DADA, against his better judgment.

He was still shaken from the train attack. Even now he still had the chills, though he simply blamed it on the cold weather they were experiencing. What happened in class though showed that he was more than just shaken. He had no idea how far his feelings over the matter ran until he found himself face to face with the dementor.

"Potter!"

Harry's thoughts were shattered by Draco's scream. He blinked and looked over his shoulder, over to the couch where Draco was doing his assignments. Based on the dark glare on Draco's face, he had been calling his name for awhile. "I'm sorry. What?"

" _I said_ if you don't stop tapping that damn quill, I will shove it into your eye."

Harry glanced down at the quill in his hand, seeing it was raised slightly in mid-tap. "Really?" His eyes shifted over Draco's cast. "With one arm?"

Draco's dark glare cracked into a sickly sweet smile. "There's plenty can be done with one hand."

"Oh really?"

A dark brow rose at the challenge. "Care to test me?"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his homework. After ten minutes of staring down at his runes homework and tapping away at his quill, he decided to take a break. Though some credit for that idea came from the loafer Draco threw at the wall, narrowly missing his head.

He stood up from his desk and walked over to his head, dropping onto the mattress. He had no idea how tired he was until he felt aches pulsing through his shoulders and neck. He felt a dip in the mattress but still didn't turn his head, comfortable where he was.

"I have to hand it to you, Potter. Just when I think you can't outdo yourself, you manage to do it."

"Yes, Malfoy," Harry said. "I summoned a dementor to make the class quiver in fear."

"So you do admit it?" He could practically feel those lips curving into that infamous smirk he wanted to punch in half the time.

Despite himself, Harry felt a smile curling his lips. He ran his hands through his face, sighing. "Remind me why I tolerate you."

"I thought we went over this, Harry. It's because I'm so pretty."

"Try again."

"Because I'm so brilliant."

" _Brilliantly_  ridiculous is more like it."

Draco whacked his arm for that comment and came closer to him. He propped himself against the headboard, looking down at him. "How about the fact that I'm yours?"

Harry blinked up at the ceiling slowly, then turned over to him.

"And you're mine?"

Any comment that was ready to come out halted as Draco traced his mouth with his thumb, brushing against his lower lip. Warmth rattled Harry's chest, his stomach like snakes.

"You at least stood up against your fear, Harry. Take pride in that." Draco spoke quietly in a low whisper, as if there other people around eavesdropping on them. Harry couldn't explain why but it made goose-bumps to prick his skin.

"I-I didn't really face it," he murmured. "I just stood there."

Draco shrugged with one shoulder, his hand still on his bottom lip, tracing it like he was working on a masterpiece. "Even so, you didn't turn away and that's brave. I don't think I could have done that."

It occurred to Harry that Draco didn't go up in class today. Before he had the chance to, the dementor came in and Remus let them out early. He wondered what shape Draco's boggart would have taken. "What's the thing that scares you the most?"

The stroking stilled but the thumb remained where it was. Draco's eyes slowly moved from his mouth to his eyes. Harry had no idea how close they were till he felt Draco's cool breath brushing against his skin.

A rattling at the window broke the moment, cutting through the spell like a knife and bringing the two back to reality. Heart pounding rapidly, Harry drew back from Draco and propped himself up on his elbows. Through the heavy sheet of rain, Hedwig was tapping away at the window, carrying a letter in her mouth.

Harry crawled out of bed and opened it, sighing in relief as the cool air kissed his flushed face. The owl shook her feathers dry and strutted over to her owner, holding out a sealed envelope marked with the Malfoy stamp.

"Who's it from?" Draco asked.

"Your parents," Harry broke the seal and opened the letter.

_Dear boys,_

_I have thought over what you said concerning the gamekeeper and his hippogriff. I have often told you that every action, every decision a man makes is a show of character. Of his rationality. And as you know, I am a man who takes great pride in character. It would seem impractical to talk to the Ministry over a minor incident. I will still speak to Fudge about Dumbledore's decision about the gamekeeper teaching. A student was harmed under his watch and that cannot be forgiven. I have decided, though, to spare the giant's pet._

Harry let out a heavy sigh of relief, feeling like twenty years had been restored to him. Ron and Hermione would be relieved to hear that.

_However, Harry, we have heard about Black._

The smile on Harry's face dropped.

_Dufftown is close to Hogwarts-too close. Severus, Narcissa, and I talked it over. For the sake of your safety, we're revoking your admittance to Hogsmead trip. I understand that you are shocked, may even be frustrated, but you must understand that chances cannot be taken._

_What?!_ Hogsmead was one of the things Harry looked forward to for third year. The candy shop, Honeydukes, that was stocked treats that were so good, customers left weeping. The prank shop Fred and George said was their mischief sanctuary. The Shrieking Shack believed to house thousands of lost souls.

And now thanks to Sirius he was going to miss it.

"What is it?" Draco demanded. "What does it say?"

Harry cleared his throat to shake off the annoyance clogging it and read the letter out loud. Draco was quiet through it all and nodded as Harry finished.

"Well, it looks like we won't be having roast chicken any time soon."

Harry gawked. Draco smirked. Then was knocked off the bed by the pillow Harry threw at his face.


	18. Drawing and Defining Lines

Harry had learned a few things in his years at the Malfoy Manor: the ins and outs of pureblood society, politics and-more importantly persuasion.

He used every ounce of his hard-earned Slytherin wiles in an attempt to sway his guardians to regarding the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. He laid out his arguments logically. First and foremost, the sighting occurred exactly twenty miles west of Hogwarts while Hogsmeade was several miles east of the school-a rather significant distance from trouble, Harry thought. Second, the Ministry had strengthened its security patrols and instated a mandatory curfew. Third, he wouldn't be alone: he would be with his friends.

Sadly, however, a student may never be as skilled as his master-much less three Slytherin masters. Narcissa was usually easiest to persuade but she put her foot down this time, convinced it was too dangerous. Uncle stood behind her, unmoved. Harry tried going to Severus in hopes that he could convince him. That didn't go as well as he hoped.

"If you try to change my mind about Hogsmeade," the man said as Harry walked into his office. "You will not only be grounded but also be tasked with cleaning every cauldron in storage." He didn't even look up from his papers as he silenced Harry's immediate protest. "And will do so with a toothbrush if another word of complaint comes out of your mouth."

Frustration swelled inside Harry like a balloon. He clenched his fists to keep his anger from bursting, took in a deep breath, and left his uncle's office. A thousand curses threatened to rattle off his tongue and he bit down hard, nearly drawing blood. This wasn't fair.

Sirius surfaced only  _once_  in a small, remote village; it seemed impossible that he would strike the same place twice. Even if he were to return, there was no way to know that Sirius would-that he might actually-well, the fact he couldn't finish own train of thought spoke volumes, as much as he hated to admit it.

Harry walked his friends to the gates where students were gathered around, handing Professor McGonagall their permission slips and talking excitedly with their friends. He saw Ron and Hermione with the other Gryffindors and sent them a small smile.

"It's a shame you can't come with us, darling," Pansy said. "It won't be the same."

"It's okay," he said, attempting to hide his disappointment with a smile he hoped he was convincing. "Maybe next time."

"Not to worry," Theo said. "I'll be sure to stop by the bookshop for you."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Theo glared at her. "You may find it shocking to believe, Parkinson, but some people actually enjoy reading." She rolled her eyes again and his glare intensified. "Then again you have to be  _able_  to read to actually enjoy it."

Pansy lunged forward. Goyle grabbed her wrist and held her back before she had the chance to claw Theo's face with her sharp nails. She sneered at him then turned back to a smirking Theo. "One of these days, Nott, I'm going to rip that tongue of yours and use it to slap you."

"Before that happens, Parkinson, you'll be buried six feet under and I'll raise a toast in honor of the long-awaited silen-"

Blaise cut in, "If you two need a few minutes to relieve some tension by the corner-"

"Shut it, Zabini!" the pair sneered in response.

After Goyle released her, Pansy flounced away, knocking purposefully and gleefully into Theo, who rubbing his shoulder and glowering at Blaise, followed behind her. A mere ten steps later, they exploded into another argument.

Harry shook his head and glanced over at Crabbe and Goyle. "Do me a favor? Try to keep them from killing each other."

"We'll try," Crabbe said.

"Though it would be a lot easier getting a group of fairies to dance for us." Goyle finished.

He and Crabbe went to queue in front of McGonagall.

Blaise stayed behind and slung his arm around Harry, sighing heavily. "Hogsmeade just won't be the same without you, Potter."

Harry snorted, lightly pushing his friend away. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of victims to keep you company, Blaise."

Blaise smirked. "True but I have one specific victim in mind."

Draco stepped in front of Harry and pointed at the group. "I think McGonagall is calling you, Zabini."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco's dark scowl, his smirk still in place. He nodded at Harry before walking away to join the queue, Draco glaring dangers at his back.

Harry stepped in front of Draco, blocking his view. "Hey, you okay?"

Draco's glare softened a bit as he looked down at him, though his face was still pinched in irritation. "Peachy," he said in the same flat tone he had during the welcoming feast.

"Look, you know Blaise. He's only joking."

Draco hummed in an unpleasant manner that reminded Harry of Severus whenever he was displeased.

"Students, gather around!" McGonagall cried. "We're leaving."

"You better go." Harry titled his head, indicating the group.

Draco nodded but didn't move. His eyes were no longer hard but clouded with an emotion that was just as heavy as anger, one that made Harry feel increasingly vulnerable as the seconds ticked away.

Draco's scrutiny caused a strange feeling to stir in Harry's chest, pricking like a needle before stretching down to the pit of his stomach. He unknowingly took a step back from the feeling as heat rushed to his cheeks but before he could take another, Draco clasped his wrist and brought him forward.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt Draco press a gentle kiss on his forehead, causing warmth to surge and fill his chest. He finally exhaled, releasing a short, almost-pained gasp when Draco pulled his mouth away from his skin.

A glint danced across those eyes, brightening gray to silver, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'll see you soon."

Harry's cheeks were still burning as he nodded weakly, his throat dry and stomach tight as he turned to begin his trek back to the castle.

"Harry! Hey Harry!"

He blinked; searching for the source of the call-Ginny was heading toward him.

"I just had a revelation," she said.

Some of the dizziness faded as he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Oh?"

Ginny shrugged with one shoulder, her smile growing. "You're here alone and miserable. I have a load of homework that I don't want to do. And the quidditch field just happens to be free."

Easily connecting the dots, Harry asked "Up for a game?"

Ginny arched a brow, turned on her heel, and raced to the field. Giggles fell from her lips as she heard Harry behind her, quickly catching up.

Neither of them noticed the blonde with eyes like shards of ice, glaring at the redhead as he watched them go.

"How sweet."

A growl rumbling in his throat, Draco tore his eyes away from Harry and the she-weasel and turned towards Blaise, who had come to stand behind him.

"They certainly do make a nice pair," Blaise commented. Draco growled louder. The sound caught Blaise's attention. "So sorry, Draco. Is something bothering you?"

There were times when Draco wondered why he kept certain people in his circle. No member had been thought about and questioned more than Blaise who clearly wanted his membership revoked."Keep talking, Zabini, and the next thing that will come out of your mouth will be your teeth."

Amusement shone in the boy's mischievous eyes. Biting down another growl and crossing his arms, clenching his hands into fists, Draco joined the rest of the group. With every step he took, he fought against the urge to turn around and knock that annoying, almost-knowing look off Blaise's face-to race into the courtyard, grab the she-weasel by her hair, and toss her a good fifty feet- to take Harry and...

A low, frustrated snarl hissed through his teeth as the blond was unable to finish the thought.

* * *

Despite the day's initial disappointment, Harry did manage to have fun.

It was interesting playing with Ginny. It wasn't like playing with Draco, whose every move he could anticipate, or the rest of his Slytherin friends, whose moves were sleek and purposeful. Ginny was small but she certainly was fearless, both off and on the pitch. She was a natural on the broom, flying at full speed at every opportunity, prepared to unseat any opponent.

Several hours later, they finally lowered themselves onto the ground, shaking with laughter. Harry's clothes were damp with sweat.

Ginny grinned as she looked over at him. "Is there anything quidditch can't solve?"

Harry thought about it. "Politics?"

"Give it ten years."

Harry laughed again and Ginny joined in. "Thanks, Gin."

"Actually," she said quietly, grin fading from her face. "I should be thanking you."

Harry's brows furrowed at the sudden somber quality of Ginny's voice. "I never got the chance to thank you for what you did. Last year I mean."

Last year -when the Heir of Slytherin was wreaking havoc on the school, attacking several Muggleborn students. Voldemort, of course, was to blame, using Ginny as a pawn in his plan to wreck havoc. To this day, Harry had no idea how Tom Riddle's old journal found its way into Ginny's hands. Ginny was just as confused by the ordeal, claiming to know only two things: she discovered the book shortly after she came to Hogwarts, and once she started writing, it was hard to put down the quill.

"Ginny, none of that was your fault." Harry insisted.

"But-"

"It wasn't." Harry repeated, his voice form as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Ginny's eyes focused on his hand, a shade of light pink spreading across her cheeks. Harry was about to pull his hand back, then stilled as Ginny began to grin, looking beyond him and tilting her head back. "Looks like I'm not the only one in awe of your quidditch skills."

Harry turned over and looked up to find Remus waving from the high balcony with a small smile.

At that moment, Harry realized he hadn't yet paid Remus a proper visit. He turned back to Ginny. "See you later?"

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she nodded, "At dinner."

"Sure." He collected his broom, waved to her, and headed inside the castle.

He wasn't surprised to find Remus's office in the Gryffindor wing, the professor being a former Gryffindor, but he was taken back at the size of his quarters. At just under half the size of Severus's living space, Remus had a bathroom and a sitting area with a fireplace to ward off the chill. The rooms were overflowing with books, stuffed in narrow shelves and piled in towering stacks.

Tip-toeing cautiously through the stacks, Harry took a seat on the well-worn couch, its gray fabric threadbare and patched. He accepted the cup of tea Remus handed to him, smiling in thanks. "So why the change of scenery?"

Remus had been living in Moscow for the last several years, living in a farmhouse just outside the city and teaching at a small private school nearby. It had been the longest he'd ever stayed in one place and he seemed to enjoy it.

Remus smiled, taking a small sip of his tea. "Moscow was pleasant, but I figured a change couldn't hurt. Also when word came in about a job-opening at Hogwarts and opportunity to be close to my pup came along, I knew I couldn't let it go to waste. Which reminds me," He picked up a cookie from the tray and, with a murmured spell, changed it into a cupcake complete with a lit candle. "Happy belated birthday, Harry."

Harry blew out the candle, plucked it out of the treat, and sighed happily as he took a big bite of the cake, tasting its moist texture and the creaminess of the frosting.

"You certainly have your father's appetite."

He looked up at Remus.

"And from what Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore told me, you seem to have his talent of getting into trouble."

Harry's lips sloped downward in a grimace. Remus' eyes lit with amusement.

"Er…"

Remus left out a small chuckle. "Nothing to be ashamed of, pup. If I had a gallon for each time James got us into trouble, I'd…well I'm sure I would have gained quite a fortune."

Harry gave a sugar-laced smile.

"And like him, you have a group of loyal friends there to help. Very diverse group you have. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley. Mr. Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnegan. And the friends you made from your house." Remus was just as stunned as everyone else by Harry's sorting. Unlike most, it only took a few seconds for him to digest the news before nodding and saying Slytherin gained itself a valuable member. "Mr. Zabini, Ms. Parkison, Mr. Nott. And of course, Mr. Malfoy."

The statement, simple observation as it was, should not have thrown him. It was common knowledge-the sky was blue, what went up came back down, and Harry and Draco were friends. Harry was thrown, however: Remus's words caused an unsettling coil in his stomach, tightening like a fist.

"It seems you two have grown closer."

There was a certain shift in Remus's tone, ringing at the last few words. Harry would have questioned it if his face wasn't burning.

"We're, well, um, we're…" Harry didn't know where to begin. It was a question that was so simple and yet, so unanswerable at the same time.

How could Harry explain to Remus that he and Draco were simply-well, them? How easy it was to determine the blonde's next move? How Draco knew practically every inch of Harry's mind? That Draco was his other half? How they were so entwined with each other, it was hard to tell which parts belonged to whom?

Harry recalled their mantra _, "I'm yours and you're mine."_  How could he ever explain it to an outsider without it coming off as strange?

"Like brothers?" Remus guessed.

At the word, Harry's stomach lurched. The rest of his body shuddered, his skin pricking and itching in irritation. In some ways, the word "brothers" made sense, given the circumstances and their close bond. But every time Harry heard it, the idea of being "brothers" with Draco brought a wave of discomfort crashing over him.

"No," Harry choked, pushing his way through the emotions clogging his throat. "Definitely not like brothers."

There was a moment of silence before Remus asked in a gentle manner, "More than?"

Harry's startled, widened eyes glanced up at the man as a tightness gripped his chest, hot as fire, sharp like a knife.

He could feel his mouth opening, closing, opening again while memories flashed through his mind. He thought of their childhood saying, the meaning that had deepened with time, coloring the once-innocent words. He remembered Aunt Cissa building two master rooms for them and Draco pointing out that they've always shared a room. Harry thought back to how they'd always shared a bed, even wrapped in blankets and sheets and each other. He thought of the needles that stabbed him whenever Draco looked at him in a certain way, of how his breathing stilled whenever Draco touched him. His mind came to a stop then-recalling how everything came to an abrupt halt whenever those stroking fingers were replaced with lips.

Harry's face flamed. His hands were trembling, holding tightly onto the cup as he remembered Draco's mouth brushing against his forehead just this morning by the gates, the soft press of lips to the pulse point of his neck after Draco confronted him about sneaking off to Godric Hollow. The kiss-a real kiss-over the summer, something brushed off with humor and never brought up again out of either discomfort or fear. The real kiss, in which the warmth they typically felt from the familiar contact became so intense it nearly incinerated them.

Dear Merlin, now his head was spinning. Harry took several gulps of his tea, wishing it was something cooler to ease the heat of his flushed face. He glanced around the room, hoping to find something-anything-to latch onto and change the subject.

He found it in the old Daily Prophet paper announcing Sirius' appearance in Dufftown.

Severus already told Harry everything that happened Halloween night, along with his opinion on Sirius' crimes. While he didn't believe his uncle was lying or withholding information, Harry did remember the intense dislike the man felt for Sirius. Remus was different-with the expectation of his father, no one knew Sirius like he did.

Harry remembered how fiercely Remus protested the allegations against Sirius. He wondered if Remus knew something his uncle didn't, if there was a deeper meaning behind those fierce protestations, and steeled his resolve. "Moony?"

It had to be the tone of his voice that alarmed the man, changing his gentle smile into a thoughtful frown. "What is it, pup?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Remus's frown deepened. "Is it about what happened in class?"

Another discussion that would have to be for another day. "Not exactly. It's about Si-"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in." Remus murmured.

Severus came through the door, carrying a faintly smoking goblet, and stopped short at the sight of Harry. He narrowed his eyes.

"As pleased as I am to see you're not moping about, the same cannot be said about the company you choose to keep." He glared directly at Remus, who only smiled.

The smoke billowing from the rim carried a light, flowery scent. Harry wasn't sure how he knew the fragrance, but felt a wave of déjà vu-there was something familiar about it.

"Dumbledore has informed me of your-" Severus paused, seemingly searching for a word. "ailment. Hopefully this batch will be able to sustain you for the time-being."

Ailment? Harry turned back to Remus, noticing the man's pale complexion and the deep-purple bags underneath his tired eyes. "You're sick? It is the flu again?"

Remus smiled gently at him. "The wonders of a weak immune system. Do not worry, pup. I'll be fine."

"Do you want me to bring you tea later? Soup?"

"Nothing to worry about. The potion will help."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced.

"Why don't you head back to the common room? Get some homework done. I know for a fact you have a paper for DADA that needs to be written."

Harry recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He studied the man's weak appearance and said, "I guess I'll see you later then."

"Soon." Remus nodded.

Harry finished his tea and rose from his seat. He stepped around Severus, who lingered by the door, offering a small nod and getting another whiff of the strange scent as he left the room.

* * *

As soon as the sound of footsteps faded away, Severus spelled the door shut, placing a silencing charm over the room. He slowly turned his body to Lupin, eyes slit in suspicion, the left side of his mouth sharp with a taunting edge.

" _The flu_?" he said. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

Lupin refused to rise to the bait. He kept a serene expression as he took another sip of his tea.

"You know?" Severus continued, slowly walking towards him. "I always wondered how you managed to keep it from him. You kept it hidden the summer you had him down in Moscow-for three whole months. But it seems Harry answered my question. 'The flu.' If only your real condition were as easy to cure."

Lupin's smile remained, but a steel sheet coated his eyes.

Severus' eyes focused on the old Daily Prophet paper on the coffee table, half-hidden under a plate of cookies and scones. His expression became feral. "And I see you've been keeping up with the  _news_."

"Is there a particular reason for your visit?" Tension crept into his voice, turning the question into a demand.

"Why, to bring you your _potion_ , of course." Severus said with a darkly amused smirk.

"If that was the case, you would have already been gone. You may not like me, Severus, but we are no longer children. Why not put childish pettiness behind us and move on?"

Severus scoffed. To think, the fool actually believed it was that simple. "So hard to do so, Lupin, when a threat is near. The Headmaster seems to think otherwise but I am not that trusting."

"Severus, it was an accident. One which happened a long time ago-"

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?"

Lupin's face darkened. "Why don't you say what you have to say, Severus? It will save us both time."

"Very well," he said. "I don't trust you, Lupin. You claim good intentions and self-control, but we both know that's a lie."

The man's eyes darkened; trembling rocked his body and Severus doubted it had to do with the cold.

"And it would rather unconscionable, not to mention downright dangerous, for an unhinged man to be around students. One in particular."

A crack appeared in the porcelain of Lupin's teacup, spider-webbing outward with every second. "You honestly believe I would put a student in danger. My pup-"

"The same one who, under false pretenses, believes that your poor health is due to a minor illness," Severus shook his head. "If he were to know the truth…"

Lupin glared at him for the longest time. "I can see now why you and Lucius get along so well."

Unfazed by the warning in the man's eyes, Severus went on. "Your genes aren't the only strike against yourself. There's also the matter of your past entanglements."

"My past entanglements?" Lupin echoed, incredulous. "Explain."

"You and Black. He was spotted in Dufftown days ago. The dementors are an intimidating, yes, but Black would be the type of fool to try to test them. Then again maybe he won't have to. He might find a way to walk right in-you two were rather  _close_. More than close in fact-"

The cracked teacup exploded with a piercing shatter, breaking off into pieces coated with blood. Lupin's eyes glowed bright yellow and Severus spotted a sharp canine peeking from his mouth. The man closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself, reaching for a napkin to clean his wounded hand. With a forced politeness, Lupin spoke though his teeth.

"I find it interesting you of all people would make such an accusation, Severus, considering the same can be said about you."

Severus felt a sudden flame, licking white hot down his forearm. He forcefully flexed his fingers, setting the goblet down on the table and giving Lupin a dry smile. "Enjoy your potion. I do hope you manage to keep it down this time."

With that said, Severus left.

* * *

That night, Harry found himself in a familiar position: nestled in a sea of blankets, his limbs tangled with Draco's. His mind was lost in the book Theo had brought back for him, as promised, (no thanks to Pansy, Harry was sure) and his belly was full of Honeyduke's sweets from the Gryffindors. His concentration on the book wavered as Draco curled himself against his side and carded his fingers through Harry's hair, telling him everything that happened in the village.

"And then after the owner managed to detach Crabbe's tongue from the pole, we went to Three Broomsticks. It wasn't so bad. Would have been better if Blaise didn't flirt with practically everything with legs."

Harry chuckled, turning a page in his book. "Looks like Blaise managed to have fun after all. And here I was, thinking I broke his heart."

"Not funny." Draco snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Harry said "You know Blaise. He's a flirt."

Draco scoffed under his breath and laid his head onto Harry's shoulder, nuzzling close to him moving so slowly that Harry became aware of their body heat, causing him to lower his book.

Remus' comment from the afternoon jarred back to his head: "You two seem to have gotten closer," he said.

"Draco?" The blonde gave no reply. He called his name again. Still nothing. He moved away. Draco finally looked up at him, face full of confusion.

"What is it?"

"Would you…" He didn't even know how to phase the question. "Say we're like normal best friends?"

Draco blinked, then a second time. "What?"

"It's just…" Harry exhaled slowly, struggling to fight the right words. "We're close. Really close. So much that people think we're like brothers-"

"We are  _not_  brothers!" Draco declared, shuddering like Harry had earlier. "Not even close."

"But we're closer than normal best friends."

"How so?"

Thoughts crowded Harry's mind, vying for attention: they'd almost never slept in separate beds in the eight years they've been friends, they rarely went anywhere without the other, their childhood mantra that became so heavy with the weight of unspoken expectation. But the answer that came out of Harry's mouth shocked Draco as much as it did him. "Like the fact we've kissed."

_More than once._  The words weren't said but their presence was known, hanging in the air, growing more imposing as the seconds passed.

Draco's eyes, wide as saucers, focused on Harry, while Harry couldn't look up from his duvet-covered lap. Neither could control their blush.

"That…we…" Draco's hand curled around the blanket, clenching the fabric between his fingers before releasing and smoothing the creases out. "We were  _kids_. Those don't count."

"And the one that happened at the beach?"

"That- _experimentation_." Draco supplied quickly.

Harry peered up at him.

"Hormones." Draco frowned. "I mean, they mess with you."

"Hormones?" Harry repeated.

"Yes."

Harry mulled over it. The transition from childhood to young adulthood had been rough on both of them; the strange shift that came between them did start with that initial rush of hormones.

"I guess," Harry said. "it's one of those things we…muddle through and laugh over a few years from now."

"Exactly," Draco said. "It's just a phase. Just something get out of our system. We'll get over it."

"Right."

"Right."

As if to prove their point, they slept in their own beds. Harry did more reading to relax his mind, adjusted the pillows and blankets, tossed and turned but he lie awake, just as restless as was half an hour ago.

He glanced over at Draco. The blonde was buried in his blankets, motionless and quiet, but Harry knew he was awake. He tried going to sleep one last time, and after a moment of internal arguing and turning finally gave up. He then slid out of his bed and climbed onto Draco's. He wrapped his arms around Draco and pressed his body close to him, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Better?" Draco teased, using the same words Harry said when he snuck into his bed their first night at Hogwarts.

"Much."

Harry could feel his smirk curling. Draco rolled over and nestled his head against Harry's chest.

Tightening his hold, Harry said with a shrug "Normal's overrated anyway."

"Speak for yourself, Potter."

Harry looked down. Draco smiled innocently at the dark look he gave him. "Arse."

"Dolt."

"Jerk."

"Halfwit."

"Prat."

"Git."

The two stared locked eyes, forest green and with stony gray, until barely-smothered laughter burst forth from their mouths.

"You're still a prat." Harry whispered.

"And you're still a git." Draco sent him one last smirk and closed his eyes, falling asleep within minutes.

Harry stared at him, brushing loose strands of cornsilk hair away from his face, amazed by how soft it was. He'd never told Draco this but he preferred his hair natural instead of slick and hardened with gel. Warmth fluttered in his chest as he studied Draco's face, his features relaxed and content, his skin luminous in the moonlight.

They were best friends. It was a simple statement of the fact: the sky was blue, what went up came down, he was Draco's and Draco was his. Always. This new...strangeness, these nerves, were probably just another part of growing up, another stage in their lives-a simple phase, as Draco called it. One he was sure they'd get over.


	19. Drowning in Fear, Burning in the Fire

Harry should have known that trouble didn't settle, at least as far as he was concerned. While the response wasn't always immediate, it did eventually come to collect.

And weeks later it did, as students were returning from evening classes and study hall when a scream tore through the air, cutting through the noises like a knife.

"She's gone!" a first-year Gryffindor yelled. "The Fat Lady! She's gone!"

Dumbledore and the teachers, along with half the student body, raced over to the Gryffindor wing.

The Fat Lady's portrait was slashed viciously with a set of sharp claws that chunks of it littered on the floor. Dumbledore found the woman a few paintings away, pale and trembling behind a hedge, looking like she came face-to-face with Death itself.

"My lady, what happened?" he asked.

"Sirius Black!" she cried. "He's here. In the castle."

Blood drained from Harry's face as panic filled the air.

The headmaster sent the students back to the Great Hall. First Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins. Within an hour, they were all huddled in sleeping bags throughout the room.

"Do you really think Black is in the castle?" Theo asked.

"Well, we're not camping out in the Great Hall because of the wind, Nott." Pansy snapped.

Theo growled, sending the girl a withering look, but continued on. "The question is why? Why now? Why not come when half the school was at Hogsmeade?"

"Because it's Halloween."

The group paused. Harry was shocked by the connection as they were. He was even more shocked by the fact the connection was pointed out by him, the words coming out from his own mouth.

Six years ago on this day, Voldemort broke into his house and murdered his parents. Six years ago on this day, Sirius ran after betraying his best friend.

_Supposedly_ , a voice whispered in his head.

Harry didn't need to turn around to know Draco was sliding closer to him. He heard him moving. He felt his hand slip through his and gripped onto it.

The candles all went out at once. The only source of light came from the silvery ghosts and the enchanted ceiling that was designed like the evening sky, dotted with stars. Once every hour, a teacher reappeared in the hall to check that everything was quiet and calm. Around three in the morning, when most of the students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in.

"Headmaster?" Severus. Harry kept still, listening hard. "The whole third floor has been searched. He's not there. Flich checked the dungeons and there appears to be no sign of him either."

"What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched."

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Any theory as to how he got in?" Severus asked.

_Theory?_  His hand still clasped in Draco's, Harry raised his head slightly off his pillow to hear better.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

Harry opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood a few feet away from his head. Dumbledore's back was to him and from the angle he was in he could see the anger twisting his uncle's face.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before the start of the term?"

"I do, Severus." Dumbledore said, a warning edge to his voice.

"It seems almost impossible that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed-"

"I do not believe a single person inside the castle would have helped Black enter it," The tone in Dumbledore's voice made it clear the subject was closed. "I said I would inform the Ministry when the search was completed. Now if you would excuse me."

Dumbledore left the hall, walking quietly and quickly. Severus stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep, unflinching resentment that caught Harry off guard.

Sirius Black was the topic of discussion for the next few days. Rumors and theories flew around the school on how he could have gotten in. One student believed he transformed into a plant and was mistakenly brought in. Another rumor was that he made a deal with the dementors, exchanging a safe passage for his soul. The other, one that was the most popular, was someone from the school  _willingly_  let him in. A theory that was the exact one Severus expressed to Dumbledore nights ago.

The teachers managed to restore the Fat Lady's portrait, but she refused to resume her post. She was still traumatized from the attack. The others were just as frightened, all but Sir Cadogan that was the only one brave enough to take the job.

As brave as the knight was, he was also a pain based on what his friends told him. According to Seamus, he challenged people to duels and came up with ridiculously complicated passwords which he changed twice a day.

Harry tried to push away thoughts of Sirius and focus on keeping up with his assignments and preparing upcoming Quidditch game after finding out Draco's substitute would take his spot and they were playing against Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. Apparently a prank-gone-wrong from the twins sent half their players to the hospital wing, forcing Oliver to withdraw his team from the match. Despite the fact he was juggling several things at once, Harry couldn't help noticing that he was being watched more closely. Some of the teachers escorted him from class to class. Severus summoned him to his office almost every night to make sure things were well. Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius sent more letters. Draco…well, Harry would like to say things were as the same before, but since Sirius's failed (or successful, depending on who you asked) break-in, his best friend stayed close to his side. Which wasn't that different except now Draco practically sneered at anyone who approached them he didn't deem as trust-worthy, even at Ron and Hermione which wasn't all that surprising since the blonde didn't hold a deep love for them but still. Whenever they fell asleep, Draco made sure the wards secured every inch of the room and held him tight, almost as if he expected Harry to be taken away any second.

If Harry was uneasy about the Sirius-thing, Draco was downright against it, set on having the man's head if he showed his face. A thought that would have been laughable if he didn't remember the massacre Sirius left behind Halloween night, along with the marketplace in Egypt that was left in shambles by the time he was through with it.

"Why the Gryffindor wing?" Harry wondered out loud as he, Draco, Theo, and Pansy were working on their Ancient Runes homework at the library.

Draco frowned, wanting the matter to be dropped. Theo, on the other, pushed homework aside and launched into an explanation.

"Well, its obvious isn't it?" At the blanks looks he received, Theo sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Harry couldn't help comparing the gestures to Hermione, wondering if the two were friendly with each other, or at least civil. "Gryffindor was Black's house. More importantly, it's a Potter House. He was looking for you."

"Why not then check Slytherin?" Pansy asked.

"Why would he? Think about it. Harry's father was a Gryffindor, so it's natural for one to assume that his son would be placed in his house. The chances of an alumni's child being placed anywhere else but their own house are quite slim. It's like Draco being in Gryffindor."

An image of Draco dressed in red and gold and the expression on his face when he found out he was sharing a room with four other people popped into Harry's head. The image was so baffling, he laughed. "I bet Uncle would love that."

Draco glowered at him.

Pansy laughed as well but for an entirely different reason, saying, "Or like dear Nott in Hufflepuff."

Theo shot her a dark look. "At least I stand a better chance of being a Hufflepuff than you being a Ravencla- _ow!_ " He slumped in his seat, hands reaching down to his freshly-bruised shin Pansy kicked in.

On Wednesday afternoon, students were seated at their desks, waiting for Remus who had yet made his appearance. Draco shot daggered-looks at Hermione, who had taken the seat next to Harry, forcing him to move to a another table. Any other day Hermione would respond to those looks with dark ones of her own. Today she was too focused on her notes to pay attention to Draco's death glares.

Harry examined her. The poor girl looked exhausted. Dark, almost-thick rims were embedded around her eyes. Her bushy hair was tied into a lazy bun. Every now and then she had to blink her eyes to keep from falling asleep.

"Are you alright?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Just a lot of homework."

A loud slam brought the class's attention to the back. Severus strode into the room, closing every window shutter with a wave of his wand, casting the place into semi-darkness with candles from the ceiling shedding some light. He waved his wand at the projector screen that was pulled itself down and turned to the students.

"Turn to page 394."

There was a moment of hesitation that was quickly broken by Severus who increased the intensity of his glare. Books were brought out and pages were turned.

Harry looked over at Draco. The blonde's brow was arched questioningly. He decided to ask the burning question that was on their minds. "Excuse me, sir. What happened to Professor Lupin?"

His uncle's glare didn't falter as his eyes landed on Harry. "I don't see how it should concern you, Mr. Potter. In any event, it has come to my attention that Professor Lupin has fallen ill. I shall be taking over the class until then."

Severus went over to the projector but they were still students slacking with their books. Impatient, he flicked his wrist and the pages turned themselves.

"Werewolves." Ron said, stunned.

Hermione looked over at Severus. "But, sir, we haven't finished discussing chapter three yet."

"Quiet." he ordered. On the screen appeared a creature that looked like it was being crucified. Arms stretched, legs apart, head hung low. The body appeared human but the face looked like that of a demon.

"Now," Severus slowly walked over to the front. "Which of you can tell me the difference between an Anigmaus and a werewolf?"

Hermione's hand shot up. Severus was oblivious to it, shaking his head. "No one? How disappointing."

"Sir, please," Hermione said. "An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can change into an animal of their choosing. A werewolf has no choice in the matter. With each full moon, he loses himself and gives into the beast within. With the creature in control, he could end up killing anyone who crosses his path. Even his best friend."

Draco tilted his head back and howled, gaining snickers from the Slytherins and a nasty glare from Hermione.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Severus drawled. His eyes were hard as stone as they looked over at Hermione. "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Ms. Granger. Do you have difficulty restraining yourself or do you take pleasure in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

"Valid." Draco choked the word out as he coughed into his fist. "Valid."

Harry shot him a warning glare. Draco played it off with a smile that too smug for its own good. Hermione stared straight ahead, ignoring the snickers. She latched onto her bottom lip in an attempt to calm herself as tears filled her eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to defend her. Ron immediately jumped in, glaring at Severus.

"You asked us a question and she knew the answer. Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

Severus merely stared. "I congratulate you two. You cost your house five points each."

"That's not fai-"

Severus cut Ron off with an icy look. "Attempt to finish that sentence, Weasley, and you will serve a month's detention."

From the corner of Harry's eye, he watched Draco folding a piece of paper. Once done, he sent the note-in the shape of a crane-flying with an air-kiss and a smirk. Harry caught it just in time to see as Severus addressed the class.

"As an antidote to your ignorance, you will each write an essay, to be hand-delivered to me, on the ways to recognize and kill werewolves-"

Groans and remarks filled the room. Severus raised his voice to be heard over the commotion.

"By Monday morning." he finished.

"But, sir, its Quidditch tomorrow-" Harry began and was cut short as Severus leaned in.

"Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter. Lose of limb will not excuse you." he said. "Page 394."

When Severus's back was turned, Harry attended to the note. Unfolding the paper, he saw Draco had drawn Harry on his broom, his head target practice for incoming balls. Underneath the drawing, Draco wrote  _Try not to slack off, Potter. Bet ten gallons on you._

_What a pal._ Rolling his eyes, Harry looked over at Draco. He smiled, amused, eating up the scowl on Harry's face as if it was cake. "Prat." he mouthed.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure what happened. He wasn't even sure how it happened.

He remembered how terrible the weather was. The rain pouring in heavy sheets and the wind blowing gusts of air so strong he had to hol tightly onto his broom to keep from falling. He remembered going neck-and-neck with Cedric Diggory for the golden snitch. He remembered holding the snitch for only a second until…until…

He was swarmed, cornered from every angle. The cold latching onto his body like sharp tentacles, deeper than the sharp wind, deeper than an ordinary chill, dragging him under. The screaming growing louder, pounding from every corner of his head.

" _Not Harry. Please. I'll do anything."_

" _Stand aside, foolish girl."_

" _No, please!"_

Mum! He needed to find her. He had to protect her. His body refused to move though.

" _You are so loved, Harry." She attempted to smile through her tears as she cupped his face, gently stroking his skin, trying to stop his trembling even though she was herself._

The last thing Harry heard was her final scream and the Dark Lord's cruel laughter before everything went black.

* * *

"I think he's waking up."

"Dear Merlin, I thought he was a goner."

"Looks like you owe me five gallon, Nott."

There was a moment of silence, then a pained hiss.

"You can be a real arse sometimes, you know that." Harry made out Pansy's voice as the fog of dizziness lifted.

"Be quiet!" Hermione ordered. "All of you."

"Stuff it, Granger." There was no question as to who made that remark.

Harry cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted it, blinded by the brightness of the room that made pain shoot from one temple to the other. He waited awhile for the pain and remaining dizziness to clear before he opened his eyes again.

He was lying in a bed in the hospital wing. Draco and Hermione were on the bed with him, sitting on opposite sides with him on the left and her on the right. On each sides of his bed were the rest of his friends. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise were by Draco's side. Ron and his brothers by Hermione's.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Brilliant." he croaked, wincing at the throbbing flaring at his left temple.

"Glad to see your charms are inta- _Ouch!_ " Blaise cried as Pansy dug her elbow deep into his side.

Theo handed Harry his glasses. Harry thanked him with a nod and used his elbows to prop himself up into sitting position, ignoring the painful protests his body made. "What happened?"

"You fell," George began.

"A good fifty feet." Fred finished.

"I what-" Memories slammed against his head. The thick sheets of rain that made it impossible to see. His fingers an inch away from the golden snitch. The dementors. The cold. His mother screaming. Voldemort laughing.

"We thought you were dead."

Harry blinked, breaking free of his thoughts and looked up at Draco. His bloodshot eyes focused on his fists, repeatedly clenching onto the hospital blanket. Harry opened his mouth, wanting to dig deeper into the issue, but remembered there were other people in the room and knew it was a discussion that would be saved for later.

"What about the game?" Harry asked. "Did we win?"

Grimaces crossed their faces, one by one. George was the only one brave enough to answer his question.

"Diggory kinda, well, caught the snitch after you fell. He didn't realize it till the end."

"Complete bullshit if you ask me." Pansy said.

"Well, thankfully no one asked you." Theo remarked, unfazed by the fierce scowl she sent him. "Bottom line, he caught the snitch. Harry didn't. We may not like it but he won fair and square."

"Dumbledore was furious," Hermione said. "I don't think I've seen him that angry. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and slowed you down before you hit the ground. Then whirled his wand to the dementors and chased them away."

"That's not all." Ron croaked.

Harry turned over to his direction and his insides lurched. The dozens of pieces of splintered wood and twigs were the only remains to Harry's favorite, faithful broom.

* * *

Madame Pomfey insisted that Harry stayed over the rest of the week for observations. Harry didn't argue but he did put up a fight against having the mangled remains of his broomstick being thrown away. Maybe it was foolish, considering the fact he had others, but the Nimbus 2000 was his favorite. It was the broom he used when he tried out for the team. The broom he used for their first game and every one after that. It was his good luck charm and now it was destroyed. Harry mourned its loss like he lost a good friend.

His friends came over almost everyday to cheer him up with stories, gossip, news, and treats. He was relieved to hear that Dumbledore put a firmer lease on the dementors.

"Thanks to Father, no doubt," Draco said. "Right after the game, a letter came from him."

After Potions, Draco came to the hospital-wing, dropping down his schoolbag and joining Harry on the bed. Madame Pomfey rolled her eyes when she came in to give Harry his medicine and saw the two were entangled together. She didn't bother arguing about it, but did close the curtain on the way out, giving them privacy.

Harry imagined how colorful the language in that letter was and chuckled. "Must have been some letter."

Draco nodded as he stroked Harry's hair absentmindedly. "It was tame compared to the letter Minister Fudge received from them."

Harry was never more glad not to be Minister Fudge, remembering how the man's last visits to the Manor ended. The thought was soon discarded as another came to his head. It wasn't too long ago that Draco was the one bedridden, recovering from injury while Harry was the one visiting. Chuckling, he said "Ironic."

"What's ironic?"

"You were here because you irritated a proud Hippogriff. Almost two months later, I'm here because I'm dementor bait. It's kinda-"

"Not funny!" Draco snapped.

Harry blinked, then looked up at Draco. His eyes were still hooded, carrying the shadows they held after Harry awakened from his fall. His jaw was clamped tight, his teeth grinding. "Draco?"

The blonde untangled his body from Harry's and swung his legs over the bed, sitting up and glaring at the wall as if it was a bug that needed to be squashed. His fisted hands clenched onto the blankets, nearly tearing the fabric apart.

"Losing you." he whispered.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, his muscles weak from being bedridden for so long. "What?"

"Losing you," Draco repeated, eyes fixed on the wall. "You asked me what my greatest fear was. It's losing you."

A memory unfolded in his mind. Second year when Harry confronted Draco over what he said to Hermione and found out that his actions were driven by fear instead of arrogance. Fear that Harry would abandon him. "Draco, I told you. I would never leave-"

"There's more than one way to leave someone." The words were spoken so quietly but they stopped Harry like a punch.

The fall was painful enough as it was from Harry's perspective. He could only imagined how it looked from Draco's.

"When you fell, my heart…it just stopped. It stopped. You were on the ground, pale and still. I wanted to run to you. I wanted-Severus held me back. Dumbledore tended to you but you didn't move. You were so…still. And I…I-" Draco shook his head, unable to finish. His fingers clenched onto the blanket, his shoulders shaking.

Harry moved over to Draco and laid his head on his shoulder. He could still feel the tension vibrating underneath his fingertips. It didn't stop even when Harry squeezed his shoulder.

To the public, Draco Malfoy was capable of only two emotions: arrogance and aloofness. Harry knew there was more to the story. He was the only permitted to see what lay beneath the smug, cold mask. The only one who knew there was scared, insecure boy wearing it. Growing up, they never hide from each other, not really. And if one tried, the other easily tore through the walls to unmask him. Each time Draco's was dropped, Harry saw the fear and sadness and pain that came over his eyes, feeling a sharp pang slicing through his chest. It did when they were six and Draco crashed into the tree, bruising his knee that was bleeding so much and sobbing horribly. It did when Draco finally came clean about his extreme dislike of Hermione and her words that planted seeds of doubt in his head. And it did now.

"Draco?" No response but that didn't stop Harry from trying. He wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders and pressed his chest against the blonde's back. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Draco said nothing but laid his head on Harry's arm. Harry took that as a good sign, one that needed more conviction.

"I would never leave you. Ever."

Harry used his hand to stoke his cheek. Draco leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. "I'm yours," Harry murmured.

Draco looked up at him. Harry smiled as he leaned in closer, feeling razor-winged fluttering in his lower stomach.

"And you're mine."

He placed the smallest kiss on his bottom lip, goosebumps nicking his skin as the warmth churning in his stomach morphed to molten heat. Heat that intensified, growing impossibly hotter, as Harry moved the chaste kiss fully onto Draco's lips.

Breathing was stilled as chills tingled up his spine, warmth sweeping across his body like waves. Harry's stomach, heart, his entire body lurched as if he had been kicked. Unable to handle the intensity of the sensation, he eased away, needing to breathe. A hot hand grasped the back of his head, searing his flushed skin with their touch, and pulled him back in. Back to Draco who swallowed Harry's quiet breath-or gasp-before the sound was even uttered.

It was almost the same feeling he experienced whenever the dementors were near him. Only instead of drowning in the cold that threatened to freeze him from the inside out, he was drowning in fire that threatened to incinerate every inch of him.

As frightening as the sensation was, as overwhelming as the heat was, Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away. Just as the heat was melting away his insides, it was melting away rationality, thought. Anything and everything that didn't have to do with this feeling.

It was as if Draco didn't only need to see that Harry was alright, but _needed_  to feel it. Needed to know that Harry was still in one piece, that he was okay. That he was still with him.

"Dra-"

Harry was slammed onto the bed, lying flat on his back, his hands pinned by either side of his head. Above him, silver eyes glowed before Draco crashed his lips onto his.

The mood abruptly changed from before. It wasn't like Draco needed reassurance that Harry was alright. He needed to be reacquainted with him and his taste. He leaned in closer, as if trying to bury himself into Harry's skin, rolling his hips.

Harry cried out from the small movement that caused heat to surge through to his lower body and Draco's strong grip that tightened. He cried out again, more so out of discomfort as he felt nails dig into his skin.

"Dra-Draco."

The blond only took that as an invitation to do more. Pressing himself closer, exploring further, embedding his nails deeper.

"Draco." Harry wrestled his wrists free from Draco's grasp."Draco." He placed his fists against his chest and pushed him away.

Vivid silver eyes stared back at him, bright as stars in the night sky.

Draco turned his head and curled his fists.

"Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfey called. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes." he squeaked, remembering that they weren't alone. Not completely anyway. Merlin knew what she must have heard from the other side. The last thing either of them needed was her coming in and making the already-delicate moment even more awkward. He already knew from the fire burning his face that he was distraught.

When Draco turned back to Harry, his eyes were back to stony gray, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry." he murmured. He moved in closer and brushed his thumb against Harry's neck, against the marks his nails implanted. Shadows still lingered in his eyes.

Harry had a feeling that wasn't the only thing he was sorry about. His lips were still tingling."It's okay."

Draco clearly wasn't convinced but gave a small nod. He was still brushing his fingers against the marks, moving back and forth so slowly warmth coiled in Harry's stomach.


	20. Wintery Fun and Dreams

Harry had two problems he needed to solve.

The first was Draco. Whether they admitted it or not, whether the blonde played it off as another milestone of puberty or brushed it off altogether with no questions asked, something was happening to them. Moreso to him. Harry didn't remember anything from Remus's  _talk_  that covered glowing eyes as a side-effect to puberty. Nor the sudden bouts of urgency that happened during Harry's…comforting. At least that was what he meant to offer: comfort. Draco was so terrified over what happened at the game and Harry wanted to take away the pain. In the moment, it seemed right, almost too right, before gentle reassurance became something fierce and frightening.

His cheeks still burnt whenever he thought about it.

There were also the Dementors. He knew they were nasty creatures, but had no idea they were  _that_  nasty. And fatal. No one else fainted in their presence. No one else heard in their heads the echoes of their dying parents. Harry honestly couldn't imagine anything worse: reliving his mother's final moments, attempting to comfort him, attempting to save him, hearing her pleas abruptly end with a final, bone-chilling scream.

It was the only thing from Halloween he remembered with perfect clarity. His dad running off to face Voldemort on his own while his mom scrambled to figure out a way to escape. Voldemort came in before she had the chance.

Harry needed to find a way to defeat them, and knew just the person who could help him.

Remus returned to class around the same time Harry was released from the hospital. When he stepped into the classroom, he was taken back by the thunderous applause that greeted him.

"Well, well," he said with a smile. "Maybe I should take a sick day more often."

"No!" Ron pleaded. "Please."

Remus smiled and began the day's lesson, ignoring the notes Severus had left on the blackboard. To the class's relief, although he didn't grade the essays, they were receiving credit for their effort. Hermione wasn't as thrilled, peeved that the ten pages she put in wouldn't receive a letter mark. After he dismissed the class, Harry lingered, asking the man if he was up for a walk in the forest. To his relief, Remus accepted his invitation, and soon they were in the brisk autumn air, leaves crunching beneath their feet.

"Did you hear about the Dementors?" Harry asked.

Remus's easy step didn't falter for a second as he glanced over at Harry. "I have. They've been growing restless for some time. Apparently they're furious about Dumbledore's refusal to let them inside."

Harry hesitated. The question that's been revolving around his head slipped through his lips before he could stop himself. "Why do they affect me like that? Am I just-"

"Weakness has nothing to do with it," Remus said sharply, as if he read Harry's thoughts. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures to ever walk the earth. They feed on every good thought, every happy memory until the person is left with nothing but his worst experiences. You are not weak, Harry. They effect you most of all because there are true horrors of your past-horrors your classmates cannot even begin to understand."

Harry remembered the coldness that gripped him tight as the dementors approached him, the same coldness he felt when his mother died right in front of him. "I'm scared, Moony."

Remus offered him a weak smile. "Well, I'd consider you a fool if you weren't."

"I need to know how to beat them," Harry said. "You could teach me."

"I'm not sure-"

"Please Moony. Just so I'm prepared."

Remus looked into Harry's determined face, then said, "Very well-after the holidays. For now, I need to rest."

* * *

With the promise of Remus's anti-dementor lesson, the thought of never relieving that fateful Halloween night, and the fact Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff the next Quidditch match, Harry's mood improved immensely. His thoughts still lingered on Draco's behavior, his glowing eyes and the growing intensity of his possessiveness. He made a promise to himself to research it further, and perhaps ask Aunt Cissa about it.

Autumn withered away with its' heavy rain and depressing gray and winter arrived with fresh sheets of snow. Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened to a dazzling, porcelain white and the muddy grounds were covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air; Hagrid dragged ten-foot pine trees into the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be actual fairies. The students happily discussed their plans for the holidays. Ron invited Harry and Hermione to his house after Christmas, while Harry and Draco received letters from Narcissa reminding them about the annual Christmas ball at the Manor.

To everyone's delight except Harry's, there was another Hogsmeade trip on the last weekend of the term. He didn't try going to his guardians about the trip. They made it clear the first time around they weren't budging. He was however determined to go to the village, with or without their permission.

Deciding to put his father's invisibility cloak to good use, Harry wrapped it around his body and crept behind the last group that was leaving. Before his left foot left the entrance, two pairs of arms pulled him back.

Fred and George smiled at his protests as they dragged him inside the castle.

"If you want to get to Hogsmeade," Fred began.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that." George finished.

Harry broke free of their hold and scowled as he pulled off the cloak.

"Luckily for you," George said. "We have a solution."

He commenced a drum roll on his stomach as Fred reached into his jacket and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. Sure that it was another one of their pranks, Harry accepted the parchment warily and waited for a moment, expecting some sort of explosion, itching powder to sprinkle his skin, or nasty bugs to crawl from the corners. When nothing happened, he unfolded it. There were a few tears here and there, but other than that it was a simple, blank parchment.

"Er…"

"Allow me to explain dear Harry," Fred said. "To the unwise, this is an ordinary, old parchment. Nothing special."

"Yet to the wise-not to mention incredibly handsome-" George shared a grin with his brother. "It's so much more." He took his wand and tapped it against the sheet. " _I solemnly swear I'm up to no good._ "

Thin lines of dripped from the corners of the parchment, spreading across like a spider's web from the point of George's wand. The lines joined each other, overlapping and crossing, fanning into every corner of the parchment. Words blossomed across the top. Great, curly green words that proclaimed:

_Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present-_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

_No way_ , Harry thought, staring at the map in shock. There was no way this could be what he thought it was. Then again what were the chances of another student of being called Moony other than Remus? The chances of someone else inheriting his dad's old nickname?

His dad told him about the map. How it helped him sneak out after curfew, slip past teachers, avoid rivals-it was the key ingredient to their legendary pranks. "Is that-"

"A map of Hogwarts?" Fred guessed.

"Showing everything and everyone, including secret exits? Yes, yes it is." George answered. "Also a valuable treasure left to us by the masters of mischief."

Harry wasn't going to go there, but he had a good feeling Fred and George wouldn't believe him if he said he was the son to one of those masters. Then again maybe they would. Either way, that was a conversation meant for another time. "How did you two get this?"

"First year," George said. "We were serving detention with Filch. Found this little beauty among the island of confiscated toys."

"It's been our gem for years." Fred said.

"And you're seriously giving me this?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Fred said. "We talked it over and figured you'd need it more than we do. Consider it an early Christmas gift."

Harry didn't know what to say. Somehow, someway a "thank-you" popped out of his mouth.

"There's one important thing you need to know. When you're done, tap the wand again and say ' _Mischief Managed._ '"

At the tap of his wand, the words disappeared, vanishing as if they were wiped away by a magical eraser.

"Brilliant." Harry grinned.

* * *

As beautiful as the village was, filled with quaint little shops and cafes that added to its charm, it was losing its appeal. At least it was for Draco. Most of his classmates were using this trip to get last-minute Christmas shopping done, but he already had his gifts picked and wrapped since September. Not to mention, he could only take so much arguing between Theo and Pansy before he exploded.

Leaving the two to their quarreling, he decided to check out the Shrieking Shack, Crabbe and Goyle following behind him. At first glance, the building certainly lived up to its name. It was smaller than he imagined, almost the size of a cottage with a taller structure, the window stutters crushing with the wind, snow and ice falling from the loop-sided roof.

Further down the hill, he saw he wasn't the only interested in the site. Granger and Weasley was there as well; the boy awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, the girl spouting historical facts. It was so pathetic, it was laughable.

A smirk unfolded across his face. "Well, well, well. Look who's here. You two shopping for your new dream-home?" He took a glance at Weasley. His flushed face was as red as his hair. "A bit grand for you, Weasel-bee. A vast improvement from your family's one-room hovel."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy!"

And just like that, his afternoon was suddenly improving. "Not friendly at all, I see. Boys?" He looked over at them and knew from their smug smiles they were itching for a fight. "I think it's time to teach Weasel-bee how to respect his superiors."

A scoff emerged from Granger's mouth as she stepped in front of Weasley. "Hope you don't mean yourself."

Blood boiled in Draco's body, roaring in his ears. Miserable, insufferable, irritating-"How dare you talk to me, you filthy little insect-"

A cold, strong force slammed against his left cheek-a snowball, nearly taking his head off. Startled, Draco glanced around. There was no one else there.

"Who did that?" he demanded. "Who's there?"

Silence fell over the forest until another snowball, much larger, hit him directly in the face, followed by another that hit his chest, knocking him back.

Distressed, Draco turned over to Crabbe and Goyle who stood frozen, gawking at him like a pair of ninnies. "Don't just stand there. Do something."

"What-" Crabbe was cut off as his woolen hat was pulled over his face, his trousers yanked down to his ankles before he was pushed forward, landing face-first into the snow.

Goyle's scarf raised mid-air and the boy was spun around and around until he finally toppled over, his face changing into a nasty shade of green.

Draco tried to get away, but he tripped over Crabbe who was still struggling with his trousers. The ghost, invisible being-whatever the hell it was-grabbed him by his ankles while he was down and dragged him to the slope of the cliff.

With a cry, he managed to break free. He hopped onto his feet and ran, knocking Crabbe and Goyle off his path. "Move! Get out of the way!"

"Malfoy!" Crabbe cried. "Wait!"

Draco most certainly did  _not_. He continued to run, determined to put as much as distance between him and the thing as possible. He heard the damn insect and weasel laughing behind him and vowed to exterminate them both later. He ran until he was in the deepest part of the woods. Winded, he leaned against one of the trees for support, struggling to catch his breath.

His heart froze as he heard a snapped twig, loud as thunder in the snowy silence. Dear Merlin, it was here.

"I'm warning you," Draco said, trying to sound indifferent despite his trembling knees. "My father is a powerful man. And he'll have heads if harm should come to his one and only heir. Ghost or not."

The threat sounded a lot less ridiculous in his head than it did out loud. He wasn't the only one who thought so. The footsteps grew louder, coming closer to him.

_I'm gonna die_ , he thought with a whimper (an  _actual_ whimper), shaking like the rumpled leaves.  _I'm gonna-_

His train of thought ran off course as a scent tickled his nose: dessert tart and cinnamon. Draco frowned in confusion. He was in the middle of a forest, why the hell would he be smelling tart and- _wait a minute._  There was only person he knew who was associated with that scent. "Harry!"

He heard a string of stifled chuckles as a poorly-done, deep voice replied, "No, not Harry. I am," His best friend peeled the invisibility cloak off his body, grinning at the dark scowl on Draco's face. "The ghost of Christmas past."

"Oh, you're gonna be a ghost all right!" Draco growled. Harry took off running. Draco got himself off from the snow and ran after him.

Chasing each other on foot was no lost concept to them, a familiar childhood rite. Harry had always been fast, but Draco was faster. He easily caught up with Harry's stride, wrapped his arms around his waist, and hauled him up.

"No!" Harry yelled, laughing as Draco tossed him into a tall pile of snow. He tried to escape but Draco climbed on top of him and pinned his wrists by either side of his head.

"I'm gonna make you pay, Potter." Harry tried to wiggle free but Draco was persistent, holding his arms tightly. Harry tilted his hips, trying to shift Draco's heavy weight, and Draco felt heat shot straight to his lower region, burning through his body like a flame. Harry stilled, his chest rising and eyes widening, startled by the scorch just as he was.

_So pretty_. It seemed such an odd thought to have at that moment, even odder to describe his best friend that way. Yet at the moment with his face flushed-pink from their running, messy dark hair sprawled around his head like a black halo, his eyes green and glinting from the sunlight's rays, it was a word that seemed right.

_So pretty_ , he thought, dazed.

Harry's flush deepened, realizing how close they were to each other. He made one more feeble attempt to move, but was halted by another brush of hips, clothed-bodies gliding over each other, fanning the fire.

_Mine_ , a desperate voice hissed.

"Guys!" Goyle's call came over them like a bucket of ice-water, bringing them back to reality. Harry rolled away from Draco, leaving him no choice but to get himself off the ground.

Crabbe rushed over to them, his trousers fixed and reattached. "There's a ghost!"

_A ghost named Harry Potter_ , Draco scowled.

Blaise came into the clearing a minute later. His brow arched at the sight of Harry's flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes, glancing from him to Draco and then back again. The smirk tugging on the boy's lips was too knowing for Draco's taste, almost as if he knew what had happened before Crabbe and Goyle interrupted them.

"Glad you made it, Potter," he said. "You almost missed out on the fun."

"What fun?"

Blaise led the group down the slope where Pansy was lounging on a fallen tree trunk, tending to her nails. Next to her was a snowman with a blue scarf wrapped around its neck and a matching hat, sporting a stone-encrusted grimace instead of a smile. Draco heard the sounds of snow shifting in the distance, settling quickly.

Pansy grinned at Harry and came over to hug him, missing the dark look flashing in Draco's eyes. "Darling."

"Pansy," Harry pulled back a bit, his arm secured around her waist to Draco's displeasure. His green eyes darted around the area. "Where's Theo?"

"Oh, around." She smiled innocently, although the gleam in her eyes clashed with that gesture.

Draco heard a crunching from the snow again, louder than before.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Tempting," she said. "Then I realized Heaven's sanctuary would come to an end." She placed her hand under her chin and tapped it with her finger. "Or should I say Hell's?"

The sound of the settling snow grew louder, beginning to shake the ground. It could be animals, searching for food, playing in the trees. Then again Draco couldn't name an animal that'd use the word "wench" with such venom in their lips like Theo-

_Wait a tick._

Draco looked over at the frowning snowman, taking note of the twitching branched arms and the stifled sounds vibrating through his stone-dotted mouth. "You didn't."

Pansy smiled like a cat that caught herself the canary.

Quickly connecting the dots, Harry did a double take at the snowman. His eyes widened in shock. "You turned Theo into a snowman?!"

"Well, he already has a frozen heart," Pansy said. "Figure I'd speed things along."

Dumbfounded, Harry whirled over to Blaise. "You saw all this?"

"Yes, yes I did." he answered without hesitation.

Draco's brows flew up to his hairline. "And you didn't think to do something?"

"I did," he commented. "'Help. Aurors. Murder.'" He shrugged, untroubled by the dumbstruck expressions on their faces. "No one came."

The boys were ready to give the Italian a double dosage of forehead slapping until Theo the snowman shuffled more, sprinkling them with snow. It was a good thing Pansy remembered the counter jinx to the spell, though it took over an hour to finally wrangle the information out of her. Once they managed to change Theo back into a boy, they took him to Three Broomsticks to warm him up. Five layers of blankets the owner was kind enough to loan them, a seat right by the fireplace, and three large cups of hot chocolate later, Theo was still shivering.

"When I-I-I get my h-h-hands on you, P-P-Parkinson," he snarled, his teeth chattering. "I'm gonna have your h-h-head."

"Whatever you say, F-F-Frosty."

Draco rolled his eyes at the arguing pair as Harry returned from the counter with another round of hot chocolate topped with whipped-cream, sprinkled with cinnamon. He set the drinks down on the table, took two that had peppermint-stick straws, and carried them over to the window frame where Draco was seated.

"Cheers," he said, sitting next to him and handing him a mug. "To our wacky friends."

'To scheming ghosts."

Harry smiled at the remark. "To shrieking prats."

"And fun in the snow."

Draco hadn't considered the weight of the words until they were said, hanging in the air between them, weighting down the light-hearted mood. Harry's smile dropped and Draco's ears burnt underneath his hat.

"It," Harry said after a long moment that dragged like an hour. "It was definitely something."

_You're telling me_ , Draco thought.

Harry looked up and, as if sensing the jumble of thoughts colliding in his head, sent him a soft, reassuring smile. As grateful as Draco was for that smile, replying with one of his own, his mind drifted back to what happened in the snow bank. Entangled in each other, their bodies positioned in angles and touching in ways they've never done or felt before, creating a new and dangerous friction.

_Stop it_ , he ordered, shoving the image in the deepest corners of his mind.

* * *

_Adrenaline thrummed through his veins as he spotted a shock of black hair through the sheets of snow, hiding behind a tall three. Harry cried out, laughing as he was discovered and quickly abandoned his hiding spot. He ran straight for the clearing as Draco followed._

_The snow was thick; a heavy layer of blanketing the ground, clouding the air, but Draco was still able to see him. The drifts of snow slowed Draco a bit, but he felt like he was flying, running faster than he ever had before like he was tearing through the sky on his broom. He was actually moving faster than he had been on a broom, his feet barely touching the ground._

_As did Harry's when Draco finally caught him, letting out a victorious cry and pulling him close._

" _No!" Harry yelped as he was tossed into a small mountain of snow, the impact sending thousands of flakes into the air, dotting Draco's face and hair with white._

_He straddled the smaller boy's hips before he could escape, pining his wrists by his head, smirking at his friend's struggles. "I told you I'd get you, Potter."_

_Panting, Harry looked up at him. Draco couldn't explain why but the sound made his body hum in pleasure._

" _And I expect full payment."_

_Without hesitation, Draco swooped in and melded their lips together. Warmth surged from Harry to him and back again, connecting the two together like a sacred thread, growing stronger and hotter._

_Harry stilled for a second, stunned by Draco's bold move, but gave into the sensation, reaching out to touch the flames that grew between them. With a breathless whimper, he surrendered, giving into the fire, opening his mouth. The moment Harry granted access, Draco charged. He was addicted to the sweet sparks dripping off Harry's tongue, the embers of his mouth and heat in his lips. The warmth was so delicious, it was almost painful. The draw to fire so powerful, it was frightening. As frightening as it was, neither could stop. Neither_ wanted  _to stop._

_Harry's hand curled around his shoulder, the touch seeping through the multi-layer of clothes. "Draco."_

_Hearing his name said in a faint whisper made something in him snap. Broke the frail lock of remaining self-control he had left in him. He deepened the kiss as his need intensified._

Mine.

_The kisses grew passionate, more thorough, and more desperate. Draco kissed Harry like he was a starving man and Harry was the last morsel of food. Devoured Harry as if the boy was fine bourbon and he was an alcoholic sucking every drop. Each time they separated, even for a moment, Harry panted as he took in gulps of air while Draco snarled from the parching thirst running through him from the separation, moaning as their lips were brought back together._

_Greedy mouths swallowed moans, whimpers, and sighs as tongues clashed and parred like dueling swords, fighting for control. Dominate, submit. Order and obey. Sucking until bruises bloomed, marking necks, cheeks, lips-over and over again. The hunger transferred over to hands that grabbed and tugged, tearing through each other's clothes with the vigorous of a child with their presents on Christmas morning._

_Jackets, scarves, hats, sweaters, shirts. All tore and discarded, pooling around them. Draco unpeeled every layer that kept him apart from that beautiful, flushed skin begging to be touched, to be kissed, to be marked. He needed to mark every inch of him._

Mine.

_Draco moved downward over the smooth expanse of Harry's chest, goosebumps erupting in his wake as he kissed over the soft skin, biting down before laving the marks with his tongue, soothing the redness he left behind. A gasp tore from Harry's throat as Draco caught his nipple with his lips, tugging at it with his teeth, feeling Harry writhing underneath him. "Draco."_

" _You're mine," He barely recognized his own voice, tight with desperation and hunger. "Mine!"_

_He repeated Harry's name possessively as he dug his fingers through layers of clothing, pressing his cheek to Harry's chest, breathing in the smell of his skin and feeling his erratic heartbeat. He finally wrestled Harry's belt free from its buckle, showing down layers of denim and cotton, soaked heavy from the snow and reached to find Harry's hole open and ready for him. Drunk from the beautiful sight, he exhaled against Harry's cleft. He frantically unbuttoned the buttons of his trousers and got rid of the offending garment, finding himself already slicked with pre-come and harder than he could have imagined._

_Draco positioned himself, leaning in to whisper in Harry's ear. "You're mine, aren't you? All_ mine _," as he charged in. He almost blacked out at feeling of completion that came over him. He never felt anything so right, so perfect._

" _Yours!" Harry screamed, back arched, fingers digging into the ground. Snow-white feathers seeped through the gaps of his fingers._

"Fuck!" Draco woke up with a jolt, his skin damp with sweat. He placed his hands against his chest to keep from his pounding heart from jumping out, struggling to catch his breath.

What in the dear name of Merlin just happened? What made his mind came up with something so-a frown pinched his face as he shifted his legs and felt something hot and warm pooled around his thighs. What the hell? Did he piss on him-

_This is not piss_ , Draco concluded, his face red and hot as his hand crawled under the blanket and felt something much sticker.

Dear. Stinking. Merlin.

A scream soared up his throat. He clamped his mouth shut and bit down hard on his tongue to keep the mortifying sound in. He reached for his wand and cast a non-verbal to clean the spoiled sheets and his nightwear. Though the mess was gone, Draco still felt dirty. Tainted.

He must be tainted. Absolutely delusional and insane to be thinking about his best friend like that, to have a dream like that.

_Goddamn bloody hormones_ , he fumed _._  They were the culprit. They were the ones making him feel…well, things he didn't usually feel, making everything absolutely crazy-

"Draco."

His heart leaped to his throat at the sound of his name. Panicked, Draco slowly looked over his shoulder, dreading to see the look in Harry's eyes. Instead, his best friend slept peacefully, lost in his dreams and blissfully oblivious to Draco's mortification.

Draco was about to slip from the bed until Harry rolled over to his right, facing him, his hand reaching out. A frown touched his face as his hand patted the bed and felt nothing.

"Draco," he murmured his name, half-conscious, still asleep.

Draco felt a war beginning to rage in his chest. The part of him that still stunned from the dream and the mortifying aftermath wanted to pull away, to go into the empty bed and try to forget about what happened with some distance and sleep. Another part of him, one that was bigger and stronger than other side, wanted to draw Harry close to him and try to go back to sleep.

Victory was declared as Harry murmured his name once more, his hand still searching for his favorite pillow. Moving quietly as to avoiding waking him, Draco scooted closer to Harry, trying to ignore the previously-damp spot, and gathered the smaller boy into his arms. As soon as Draco's arms were around him, the frown on Harry's face broke into a small, peaceful smile, a sight that made Draco's heart ache with contentment-and confusion.

This was his best friend. His boy, his other half.

Nothing came between them. Not their clashing ideals over Muggleborns, not Granger and her conniving words. And he'd be damned if he let anything, much less puberty and their bloody buggar hormones, get between them.


	21. Tis the Season to be…

_Damn it!_

That was one thought bouncing throughout Harry's head, set on a continuous loop like a song. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

He searched his bookshelves. Nothing. He searched through his trunk. Zip. His dresser and desk, checking every drawer twice, digging through piles of clothes, stacks of notes, old assignments, and messages from friends. Zilch.

He couldn't believe it. He didn't even know how it was possible, but the map was gone. The Marauders' Map that was his dad's greatest treasure, a gift from the Weasley twins, was actually gone.

The last time he used it was Wednesday night; leaving Ron's dorm later than he expected and needing to take quick, teacher-free pathways to make it back to his room. Once he was back, he kept the map locked away in his trunk. Except now, two days later as he was finishing up his packing for the holidays, the map was gone.

"Goddamn stinking Merlin!" Harry cursed as he rampaged through his room, turning up empty. He paused and looked over at Draco's side that was still neat. He hadn't checked there yet. Maybe he could-

"Don't even think about it, Potter!"

So much for that plan. Biting back a curse, Harry's eyes drifted over to Draco who was in the middle of the doorway, bags packed and loaded. His arms were crossed against his chest, his frown speaking of impatience, a look that had been on his face for the past ten minutes.

"I know how much that map means to you, Potter, but we need to go. The last carriage to the platform leaves in five minutes."

"But-"

"You're leaving this room two ways: willingly by my side or I change you into a beetle and keep you locked in a jar the entire train ride back. Either way, you're coming with me." Harry wondered whether Draco practiced that threatening look in the mirror or if he took tips from Severus.

As much as he hated to admit it, Draco had a point. If they missed the train, they were screwed. With a defeated groan, Harry grabbed his bag and followed Draco out the door. Outside in the halls, stretching from the Slytherin common room, the staircases, and the Great Hall excitement rang in the air. Friends were hurrying over to hug each other goodbye, promising to write everyday. Others were huddled together, exchanging their plans for the holidays.

Remus was by the door, a smile brightening his worn-out face as he caught Harry's attention. Breaking away from his friends, Harry made his way over to hug him goodbye.

"You're looking well." Remus said.

"So are you." Harry replied. There was some color back in the man's cheeks, the circles underneath his eyes not quite as dark as before. "I don't suppose you'll be making an appearance at the Manor?"

Remus's smile didn't waver. "Persephone will to drop off your present. As for me? I'm afraid that I will have to politely decline."

 _Again_. It was the same answer Remus had been giving for the past eight years. He may not butt heads with the Malfoys, keeping things civil between them, but Harry wouldn't go out on a limb to say they were friends.

Remus took notice of Harry's frown and ruffled his hair, gently nudging Harry back to his group.

Lucius and Narcissa were waiting for the boys at the station, wrapped in their fine cloaks, power and allure oozing from them. A vast contrast to the Weasleys who were standing a few feet away in hand-stitched sweaters and multi-layers. Molly waved over to Harry, who returned the gesture with a smile. Unlike her and Mr. Weasley who welcomed their kids back with a rain of kisses and hugs, his uncle and aunt stood still, not touching the boys. According to uncle, such displays weren't proper for purebloods.

"Boys," Lucius said. "You're looking well. Quite an improvement from our last visit." Humor danced across his eyes.

Draco subconsciously rubbed his arm, as if it was still tied in a cast, and elbowed Harry for failing to cover up his laughter.

"Shall we go?" Narcissa asked.

Looking into those ice-blue eyes reminded Harry of the questions he had for her. "Yes."

Narcissa offered her arm and Harry accepted, leading her to their carriage.

* * *

Christmas day commence with loud holiday cheer. The boys were up at the crack of dawn, racing each other downstairs. The house-elves outdid themselves with breakfast, cooking up quite a feast of French toast, omelets, and cinnamon rolls. After breakfast, the family including Uncle Severus who sneered at a poor house-elf for suggesting he switch his porridge for a cinnamon bun directed themselves to the living room. Within ten minutes, wrapping paper littered the living room floor as they tore through their presents.

Harry received books, clothes, a new broom and a broom-care kit from Lucius, and another Weasley sweater from Molly, who's been making him one for the past two years. According to Ron, holiday sweaters were a Weasley tradition. Since she met Harry, touched by his and Ron's friendship, Molly decided to include him in that tradition, sending him a new, handmade sweater every Christmas. This year was the same as the others: nice and soft, colored a dark jade-green with a golden 'H' stitched on the front.

Draco's nose crinkled as if he smelled something foul. "How the hell you can allow something so offensive to touch your skin is beyond me."

"Simple," Harry threw a grin at him as he tugged the sweater over his nightshirt. "It's cozy."

Draco scoffed with an eye-roll.

"Maybe I should have her make you one."

The look in Draco's eyes could be summed up in one phase:  _over my dead body._

"Personally, I'm a firm believer of quality over quantity," Narcissa said, taking a sip of her tea. "But then again everyone has their preferences."

There was something in her voice that made Harry look up, the spark glinting in her eyes reminding him of the questions he had and the answers she might be able to provide.

After the presents were opened and the wrapping paper was disposed of, Harry followed her into the library. Narcissa barely seemed surprise that she had an extra shadow. She gestured for him to take a seat beside her by the fireplace and smiled.

"How have you been, my dear?" she asked. "From what I've been hearing third year has been interesting for you two."

 _You don't know the half of it_. Dementors, a break-in at the school, Draco. His cheeks warmed at the last thought as his mind played back how close they were to each other in the snowbank, how a simple comforting exploded into something consuming. "Things have been…well, definitely not dull. That's for sure."

"And Draco? How is he?"

Once Harry saw his opening, he lunged. "That's actually what I want to talk to you about, Aunt Cissa."

Interest sparked in her eyes.

"For the past few months, Draco has been acting, well, different."

"Oh?" A slim, dark brow arched questioningly.

Harry nodded. "Lately he's been more…aggressive, lack for a better word. He seems more irritated, throwing glares at anyone who gets too close. Even to our friends." Particularly at Blaise and Hermione. "He's become like my shadow or something. I know part of the reason is because of Sirius, but the other half I don't-I just don't know. And…"

The arched brow rose slightly higher. "Yes?"

"Sometimes," Harry was tempted to keep the words inside, realizing how crazy it sounded. "During certain moments his eyes would glow. Like seriously glow. One second they're plain gray, the next they turn to silver."

He was sure he would be called crazy, that she'd said it was one big misunderstanding. Or that so much reading was causing his imagination to go wild. Instead Narcissa simply stared at him, as if he was a specimen that needed to be studied, taking in his words. Just when Harry leaned over to wake her from her trance, Narcissa blinked, a smile breaking across her face.

"I see." she said.

This time it was Harry's turn to stare.

"Draco is going through, well, let's just say a metamorphosis. Same as you, but different. More thorough. Along the way, changes will come about. Some more…detectable than others."

Harry blinked.

"Some of those changes may come across as unusual to you, perhaps even frightening but keep in mind that it's not permanent. At the end of every metamorphosis are beautiful results. And who knows? It may bring the two of you closer."

Harry blinked again, loss for words.

"Could you do me a favor, darling? Would you mind passing this-" She snapped her fingers and a book from the top shelf in the back flew across the room, landing on Harry's lap. It was thick, almost the same size as their DADA books. "To Draco? I do so myself but there are last-minute arrangements I need to tend to."

Baffled by their conversation and frustrated by the lack of answers, Harry nodded. He rose from his seat, but before he made his way to the door, Narcissa held him in place.

"Things may be confusing now, my dear, but I can assure you they will work out. In time."

Harry nodded. She smiled gently at him and kissed his cheek.

"It is wonderful to have you boys back."

Despite his frustration, Harry managed to pull a small smile for her and pecked her cheek before he left. He barely took ten steps before he was plowed down, the book slipping through his fingers, lost in the midst of fallen china, tea, and sugar.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Pain throbbing from his head to his lower back, Harry slowly sat up and looked up at Dobby. The house-elf looked like he was stuck between the choices of banging his head against the wall for the mess he made or disappearing from sight before Uncle caught him.

"Dobby is so so so sorry, Master Harry." The house-elf stammered. "Dobby caused such a mess. Dobby was careless. Dobby-"

"It's fine." Harry insisted. "I'm fine, Dobby." Well mostly fine. Some of the tea spilt on his pants, and his head was throbbing, but those could easily be fixed. "No harm done."

"You mean it?" Tears filled the elf's eyes. "Oh, Master Harry, bless you. Dobby does not deserve such kindness-"

Harry placed a hand on the elf's shoulder and squeezed it gently to stop his rant. "It's alright." He glanced around the spilled tea that was staining the carpet. He hoped for Dobby's sake Aunt Cissa didn't leave the library anytime soon. "You may want to clean up before someone else sees."

It dawned to the house-elf that the floor was still covered in his mess. "Oh yes, yes. Right away. Dobby will take care of it."

The tiny creature ran down the hall, only coming back a minute later to make the mess vanish with a snap of his fingers before running off again.

Thankfully the book wasn't damaged; otherwise Aunt Cissa would have Dobby's head. It occurred to Harry, given the book's aged pages and the oak-like material of the cover; it was probably from the collection of books she gave Draco to read over the semester. The cover was white this time but still had the strange cover material that looked like it was carved from an oak tree, the yellowed pages filled with foreign words he couldn't decrypt. On the next page was a picture of the winged-man.

It was the same one they watched from the train, shirtless, hair white, wings sprouting from his back. Only this time there was another person with him-a woman that served as his opposite, dark hair to his light, tanned skin to his pale complexion. The two were standing at opposite sides, facing each other, eyes locked in a tight hold. In the next second, the two were down on their knees, entangled in each other. The dark-haired woman's head resting on the winged-man's shoulder, he clutched onto her waist, as if she was about to be taken away any second, his large wings cloaked around them. The image started over again, this time with the dark-haired woman as a man, his body broader, angles less curvy. Despite the gender-change, the intimacy between the two remained. The gaze between the two was just as powerful, the hold they had on each other when they were kneeling just as firm.

Harry watched the scene set itself again to the beginning. One minute the dark-haired person was a woman, the next she was a he. Throughout it all, the winged-man held them tight, as if they were a precious thing that needed to be protected at all cost.

Underneath the picture was a small caption written in the same odd language. When Harry's fingers inched closer to it, blue light burst from the page, blinding him for a moment. When the brightness dimmed, Harry blinked his eyes a few times to clear them.

The strange language was still there but underneath the words in a darker, smaller text was the English translation.

**_As different as the sun and the moon, equal in power like fire and water, are two: one blessed with the gene, the other its' half._ **

_Its half?_

* * *

Time flew by fast. One second it was morning, and they were exchanging presents, stuffing their faces with food. The next it was nighttime and the living room was changed into a regal ballroom.

The Malfoy Manor never failed to take his breath away during the Christmas ball. Aunt Cissa always managed to outdo herself with the decorum. White, gold, and silver were the theme colors of the night. The food was delicious from the roasted chicken and honey-glazed ham that was served at dinner, the appetizers the house-elves carried in their golden trays as they walked over the place, and the dessert. Cakes, cream-puffs, and of course the magnificent chocolate fountain. Music flowed like a steady stream from the orchestra, from the strings of the violins to the soft blows on the flutes. The dancefloor was a swirl of silk and color as dancers led their partners through every song, each step perfectly in sync and each move tastefully done.

"Stop fidgeting, young man or I'll use my cane on you."

The string of words ran Harry's train of thought off its course. He blinked, then turned over to Draco who was standing with him by the sidelines. He didn't even realize he was fidgeting until he noticed he was playing with his tie. Sheepishly, he dropped it.

"Or what?" Harry asked. "You'll do it?"

"Care to test me?" Draco smirked, taking a step closer to him.

Harry's cheeks burnt. He tried to swallow to shake the heat burning his skin, but it did little to help him.

"Draco?" The boys broke apart and turned over to the front to see Nataliya Zabini approach them. Blaise's mother was a goddess, sharing her son's dark beauty that bewitched countless wizards and witches, her black gown clinging onto her body like a second skin. Harry never forgot the time in second year when Ron saw her picture and said she was hot. Blaise repaid the comment with a stinging hex to his arse.

She waved her hand over at the white grand piano. "It's been so long since I heard you play. Why not treat us to a song?"

"I think that's a splendid idea." Narcissa stepped forward, a vision in white and gold, her hair curled and pinned.

"Er…" Harry had to bit his lip to keep in his laughter, though it was hard to do so when one was witnessing a flustered Draco.

"And of course Harry shall join you. You boys can make it into a duet."

Harry's chuckles came to an abrupt halt. This time he was the flustered one while Draco was (poorly) attempting to hold his chuckles in.

"I completely agree." Blaise slung his arm around their necks, grinning at them. "Hearing you two sing gives me such joy."

The boys glowered at him.

"Maybe you can treat us to a rendition of that sweet Muggle song you played for us a few years back. What's it called again? Oh yes.  _Baby, it's cold outside."_

"Shut it, Zabini!"

More people gathered around them, watching, waiting. Instinct was screaming at Harry to run, but rationality that sounded a lot like Hermione and his uncle made him stay put. More than that, it commanded his body to take Draco's lead, heading over to the piano. Draco sat down at the stool while Harry stood in front of it.

 _You ready?_  Draco silently asked.

 _Not exactly._  A smile cracked on Draco's face as if he could sense Harry's anxiety.  _But I'm as ready as I'll ever be._

Draco nodded once. He flipped open the cover and his fingers ran through the keys before they were positioned. Soft music rang from the keys, and soon Harry started to recognize the melody.

 _Lullay, Thou tiny little Child_  
Bye-bye, lulle, lullay;  
Lullay, Thou tiny little Child,  
Bye-bye, lulle, lullay.

It was one thing to sing in private for friends just for fun or to sing for Draco when he needed some cheering up. It was quite another though to sing in public, reminding himself to stand straight, chin up, eyes steady and calm while nerves rattled inside his body like caged animals.

Thankfully he had Draco who managed to keep him steady.

 _Oh sisters two, how may we do_  
To preserve this day?  
This poor Youngling for whom we sing  
Bye-bye, lulle, lullay.

It was almost like they were in a waltz, positions shifting between who was leading and who was following, but the steps never faltered. Harry tried to match his tone to the slow, haunting melody Draco was playing. Draco followed Harry's lead whenever he offered his vocals as backup for the chorus.

 _Herod, the King, in his raging,_  
Charged he hath this day  
His soldiers in their strength and might,  
All children young to slay.

Their voices were in perfect harmony, brisk and smooth with gentle and pure.

 _Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,_  
And ever mourn and say,  
For at thy parting nor say nor sing  
Bye-bye, lulle, lullay.

 _And when the stars ingather do,_  
In their far venture stay,  
Then smile as dreaming, Little One,  
Bye-bye, lulle, lullay.

The applause was nearly thunderous as the last note fluttered away, their voices dropping to a low hum until they faded away. Some people's eyes were wet with tears, but only a few were brave enough to wipe them away. The grin on Narcissa's face was as bright as the lights gleaming from the chandelier, and while Lucius's facial expression appeared unmoved, his eyes were lit with pride.

"Glad to see you finally recovered from your puberty-crack, Potter." Draco teased as they accepted their applause.

"Shut it, Malfoy."

Daphne Greengrass broke away from the crowd and approached them. She was dressed in a dark green, the darkest color Harry had seen for the night other than the suits the men were wearing, and her golden hair was curled, swaying gently as if it was touched by a light wind. "You two did an amazing job."

"Thanks Daphne."

She smiled at Harry, but as her eyes shifted over to Draco, her smile brightened as did the look in her eyes. "The orchestra is setting up again. Care to dance?"

Harry blinked, then did so again, surprised. His surprise morphed into shock as Draco accepted the invitation, taking the girl's arm and walking her over to the dancefloor, missing the questioning look swirling in Harry's eyes.

The music started again and the dancers provided entertainment for the observers, moving together in perfect sync as if they were one. Draco and Daphne were in the center of it, their blond hair gleaming white from the light, smiling at each other so fondly as if they were long-lost friends finally reunited, holding each other close like they were making up for lost time.

A feeling cracked against Harry's chest like a nail being pounded into a wall, digging deep. It made no sense to feel like this. They've danced with other people at balls before. There was no rule saying they had to be by each other's side all the time. Plus, he liked Daphne. Granted she spent more time with Pansy than she did with them, but she was a nice girl. Definitely smart and pretty.

So why did it feel like nails were being hammered against his chest as he watched her dance with Draco, exchanging smiles and laughs?

Harry turned on his heel and ventured over to the buffet table that was set on the other side of the room, far away from the dancefloor. He helped himself to two apple turnovers and was about to have a third when a snarl erupted next to his ear.

Pansy appeared by his side, the crystal beads from her silver dress sparkling bright, her pretty face fixed into an ugly sneer as she glanced across the room. Harry followed that glare, discovering that the focus of her dark look was Theo who was chuckling at whatever the attractive brunette by his left was saying to him.

"Pansy?" No reply. Her one-sided glaring match was taking most of her attention. "Pansy?" Still nothing. "Pansy!"

"What?" she blinked, then turned over to Harry, regarding him in surprise as if he was the one who snuck up on her. "Oh sorry, darling. I didn't see you."

"I can see why." Harry nodded towards Theo who was still laughing at the girl's joke.

A snarl vibrated through her clenched teeth. "If Nott is going to drool over some skank, then he could at least have the decency to be discreet about it."

Harry really didn't see laughing the same thing as drooling but decided to keep that opinion to himself, knowing he would be the new target of those glaring eyes if he said anything.

Anger was rolling off Pansy's body in waves. The glass she held in her hand was slowly breaking, cracks slashing across the cup, the gaps widening.

To keep a murder from taking place and needing something to keep his mind off Draco, Harry held out his hand to her. "Care for a dance?"

Pansy looked over at Harry, then glanced at Theo, who was still laughing. When her eyes returned to Harry, a smirk curved her mouth. "Love to."

Taking Harry's hand, she practically yanked him over to the dancefloor. She laid her hand on his shoulder while he settled his arm around her waist. As he leaned in close to her, a light, flowery scent tickled his nose. It wasn't like lilies or roses. It was something else. Something different but he had a feeling that he came across it before.

" _As pleased as I am to see you're not moping about, the same cannot be said about the company you choose to keep." He glared directly at Remus, who only smiled._

_The smoke billowing from the rim carried a light, flowery scent. Harry wasn't sure how he knew the fragrance, but felt a wave of déjà vu-there was something familiar about it._

"Pansy, what is that smell?" he asked.

"What? Oh, you mean the perfume." She rolled her eyes. "A present from my grandmother. Personally not a fan. Too light for my taste." She raised an arched brow at him. "I have to say I'm surprised you're able to smell it. I practically had to use almost the whole bottle before we left."

Harry wondered how much Severus had to use to make the potion. "What's it called?"

"Aconitum. Supposedly, it's meant to protect the wearer from evil."

 _Aconitum?_  The name didn't ring any bells, but it didn't make the vague familiar feeling go away. It had to be an ingredient Severus talked to them about. During Potions class or maybe even before Harry and Draco came to Hogwarts, back when they were learning the basics about magic and were getting private lessons from him.

A sigh escaped Pansy's lips. Harry saw that her attention was focused on somewhere else, on the boy she could barely walk by without cutting him down with insults.

"You look really pretty, Pansy."

Her lips curved into a soft smile that barely kept itself together. She inclined her head in a grateful, weak nod. "Thanks darling."

As grateful as she was for the comment, it wasn't enough. Harry wished he could say something to her, to make her feel better. However as Harry cast another look at his best friend, seeing him so content with Daphne, he could say that he emphasized with Pansy, feeling the sharp pang slit across his chest like a dagger.

* * *

"The ball was interesting, wouldn't you say?" Draco asked later on that night as they got ready for bed. He was finishing up the buttons on his night-shirt.

Harry nodded weakly, his stomach stuffed from so much food, legs weak from so much dancing. As wonderful as balls were, they were also draining.

This ball was no different, living up to Draco's words of being interesting. Blaise tried to make a move at Pansy's older sister, resulting in both witches nearly hexing the boy. Thanks to a dare from Goyle, Crabbe got his tongue stuck on the angel-shaped ice sculpture, only managing to break free after Pansy shoved Theo against it. Draco spent most of the night with Daphne, leading her through dance after dance. He even walked her to the door at the end of the night.

"So what says you about this royal court this year, King Draco?"

Draco's eyes sparkled. "Grand, just the way I expected. Sadly I didn't see any potential members."

"What about Lady Daphne? She seemed to make quite the impression on you." The words escaped Harry's lips before he even realized what he was saying.

Draco stared blankly at him, just as stunned. Unlike Harry though, Draco recovered quickly, his surprise melting away as a smirk curved his face. "Jealous, Potter?"

"You wish." Harry snapped. The quick deliverance of his words caused that smirk to widen.

Resisting the urge to use a pillow to knock that smug look off his face, Harry focused on changing into his nightwear.

"I suppose she has some potential. Good breeding. Not bad looks. Can definitely hold a conversation." Harry jumped as he felt Draco's arms entwine around his waist. "But she isn't the one who I want by my side."

Harry ducked his head to hide the smile tugging at his lips. A different sort of pang went through his chest, dripped in molten heat, causing a strange fluttering to rattle his stomach. "You're hilarious."

"Thank you." Draco winked and headed into the bathroom.

Harry was about to go to bed until he heard a knock at the window. He opened the window and Hedwig flew in, carrying a late, broom-shaped Christmas gift in her talons, a blue envelope clamped in her mouth.

"What'cha got there, girl?"

Hedwig blinked at him and dropped the letter on Harry's lap. He broke the seal and took out the letter. On blue paper written in a sloppy, cursive handwriting was a small message.

_Think this might come in handy._

_What?_  Harry dropped the letter and tore through the wrapping paper of the gift, his mouth dropping.

It was a firebolt, an actual, top of the line firebolt that just hit stores after the pre-Christmas rush. The handle polished ebony, the twigs made of an equal amount of birch and hazel that would help with ascending and turning, the metal goblin-made ironwork which according to the store clerk increased stability for the rider. AKA, it was the ultimate broom, even more magnificent than the new brooms Uncle Lucius got for them.

The question was who sent it.

"What was that?" Draco called.

"Nothing." Harry said, eyes glued on the gift.

No one outside of Hogwarts knew about the horrible match, and there were few friends he knew who had to the money to pay for it.

Realization hit Harry like a punch.

_Sirius._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those interested in the song, it's called The Conventry Carol. Very beautiful. Highly recommend you listen to the Hayley Westerna verison. She has an amazing voice.


	22. A Lightness in The Dark

" _ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN BLOODY MIND, POTTER?!_ "

Harry rolled his eyes, perched on their bed, as the blond dragon paced back and forth in their room, smoke practically sprouting from his nostrils, his ears. Harry was sure if Draco knew wandless magic, the room would possibly be torched.

"Then again, this is _you_  we're talking about. Stupidity is practically embedded in your DNA."

Harry rolled his eyes.

When he figured out who sent him the firebolt, he-well, he'd like to say that he immediately turned it over to the authorities when, in reality, he shoved the broom into his suitcase, piling clothes and clothes on top of it until it was hidden from sight, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to alert Uncle Lucius, to firecall Minister Fudge, to turn it over to the Ministry. He meant to take it out later, once he'd figure out what his next move was, but soon forgotten the firebolt as the aftermath of Christmas crept in. Spending time with his friends at the Burrow, hanging out with Pansy in her family house in Germany. He didn't even remember the broom until they were back at school and saw that it was sitting on his bed, taken out by the house-elf handling their bags.

"What the hell is that?" Draco demanded.

"A broom." Harry weakly replied.

The look in Draco's eyes could be summed up in one word: deadly.  _You even_ think  _about trying to talk your way out of this_ , his glare said.  _I will end you._

With a heavy sigh, Harry sealed the door with a silencing spell, sat Draco down, and told his best friend everything. It took two minutes to explain. It only took a good five seonds for Draco to explode, shooting from the bed and cursing Harry viciously.

" _You goddamn idiot!_ "

Though the ranting rage was expected, it didn't spare Harry's eardrum from nearly shattering.

When he was sure Draco's anger cooled down, Harry rose from the bed and took slow steps over to him, careful to keep some distance between them. He was proud of himself for not flinching when Draco's glare zeroed in on him. "Look, I know it's a big risk-"

"That's an understatement." Draco snapped.

Harry continued on, saying, "But I couldn't turn it in. Or get rid of it. I know it sounds crazy but I just couldn't."

Draco stared at him, dumbfounded. "Let me get this straight. A mad criminal who's been on the Auror hit-list for six years, murdered fourteen people, nearly took out an entire Egyptian flee market, broke into the school and shredded the Gryffindorks' gate-keeper, delivers you a broom that could be hexed with dark magic or a tracking spell and yet for some incredibly, unbelievably idiotic reason you decide to  _keep it?!_ "

"I..." There was no other answer, no other explanation he could offer beside a muttered, "Yes."

Draco nodded once. "Well, congratulations, Potter. You are officially the most idiotic git I ever met in my life. And considering the brainless weasels, insects, and cockroaches I'm forced to deal with on a regular basis, that is truly saying something."

Harry scowled, irritated at Draco but even more so for himself since he knew his friend had a good point. It did sound stupid-and incredibly reckless and idiotic. But even so…Sirius' words that were planted into the pet dog resurfaced in his head, claiming there was more to the story, that everything was not as it seemed. Harry rarely hid things from Draco just as Draco rarely hid things from him, yet he hadn't breathed a word to his best friend about the thread of doubt unraveling through his heart regarding Sirius. The evidence was so clear though: Sirius left shortly after his parents were killed, had been hiding from the Aurors for years, nearly killed dozens of people including Ron the summer before third year, and broke into the school. All signs that pointed to a mad criminal. And yet, despite the clear evidence, despite the clear facts piling against him, Harry couldn't stop the thread from unraveling.

He didn't dare tell Draco though. If he even expressed a breath of doubt, Draco would have him sent to Madame Pomfey to have his head checked and stay for observation.

 _Maybe you should consider that_ , a voice whispered in his head. Harry ignored it and focused on Draco who was returning Harry's scowl with his own. "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

Draco arched a sharp brow, his scowl tightening. "Do I look like Granger to you? A kiss-up, irritating snitch with too much time on my hands?"

Deciding to let that be his answer, Harry fired another question. "Do you trust me?"

Fury cleared from Draco's eyes as surprise charged right in, causing his eyes to widen before he blinked them. "What kind of question is that?"

"Do you trust me?"

As irritated as Draco may be, as furious as he was over the ordeal, there was no moment of hesitation as he gave his answer. "Yes."

"Then please just trust me now," Harry pleaded with his old friend. "I-I can't explain it, Draco, but I know what I'm doing. I have a gut feeling about this."

Following their instincts was a lesson Severus drilled into their heads from the time they were seven. When all else failed, instinct never did. It was the most vital tool for a wizard, even more so than a wand. And right now it was an unfair card Harry played that Draco couldn't beat.

Cursing under his breath, Draco's eyes floated up to the ceiling, staring at it as if it could answer his questions, and finally sighed.

"The second your gut says something differently or my instincts kick in, we're burning that damned thing. Along with the dog."

Harry was so relieved he could have grabbed Draco's face and kissed him right there, but, his cheeks burning from the last time, decided against it and settled with a handshake instead. "Deal."

* * *

Thursday evening after finishing Ancient Runes homework with Theo in the Slytherin common room, Harry headed towards the History of Magic classroom where Remus was setting up the anti-dementor lesson. The room was dark and empty, saved for the lamps that were lit. Remus was already there waiting, leaning against a dark trunk.

"We will be practicing with a dementor-boggart instead. Fair warning, pup, it's pretty nasty though nowhere as bad as the real thing."

That was more than fine with Harry, remembering how the creature had him trapped simply by drawing breath.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" Remus asked. "This is very advanced magic."

"I'm sure." Harry set his bag by the door and walked over to him. "What exactly is the spell?"

"It is known as the Patronus Charm. It acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force. In order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. And not just any memory, but a happy memory, a very powerful one."

So a good memory was the key between him and the dementors? And a happy one? The question was which memories would work. He had good memories at school, with the expectation of doing homework and taking tests. He had good memories with his friends at Hogsmeade, the Burrow, the Manor, with Draco.

An image popped into his head. Being high in the air on his broom, so close to the stars that he was nearly touching them. Draco by his side, his friend's laughter ringing in the air, as they raced each other on their brooms, zooming through Harry's backyard.

"Have you picked a good memory?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded, replaying that image. Him and Draco, six years old, a good fifty feet from the ground, the wind kissing their faces and blowing through their hair.

"Good. Now close your eyes." Remus waited until Harry complied, shutting his eyes tight. "Allow the memory to fill you up. Lose yourself in it. Then speak the incantation,  _Expecto Patronum_."

" _Expecto Patronum_." Harry repeated. When Remus's footsteps grew faint, Harry opened his eyes. The professor stood by the trunk. Harry took out his wand and stood in the middle of the classroom.

"Ready?" Remus asked.

"Ready."

Remus opened the trunk. The room became icy cold, the lights from the lamps blown out, casting the room in darkness. The dementor glided forward, drawing its' breath, one decayed hand reaching for Harry-

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Harry yelled. " _Expecto Pantroum! Excep_ …"

White fog obscured his senses…big, blurred shapes were moving around him….a man's voice broke through the fog, panicking, shouting.

" _Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off."_

_Sounds were going off: someone stumbling from a room-a door bursting open-a cackle of high-pitched laughter drowning out pained screaming._

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Remus was tapping his cheeks hard, pulling him back from the dark veil. It took a good minute for Harry to realize he was on his back, lying on the dusty floor.

"I heard Dad." Harry mumbled. "He tried to take on Voldemort so Mum and I could escape. He-"

Tears he didn't even realize he was shedding rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat plastered on his face. Harry hastily wiped them away with his sleeve. Remus laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a minute to compose himself.

"I'm so sorry you had to experience that, Harry."

He looked up, stunned by the raw grief that filled the man's eyes, grief he knew matched his own.

"We can try again later if you'd-"

"No!" Harry said. "I have to get this."

Remus looked like he wanted to refuse but gave in with a weak nod. "Very well."

Harry shakily stood on his feet and conjured up that memory again. He focused on the amazement he felt when Draco took off into the sky, going much higher than their old toy brooms allowed them to. How fear coiled tightly in his stomach as he mounted his own broom, slowly disintegrating as he rose higher and higher. How excited he was when he looked down, seeing how high they were, and it dawned to him that they were on brooms. Actual brooms.

"Alright, Harry." Remus called. "Are you ready? One, two, three-go!"

The trunk popped open and the dementor rose. Ice clung onto him like a cloak, searing through his skin, gripping his heart tightly like a fist.

" _Expecto Pantroum! Expecto Patronum! Expect…to…_ "

His dad's final words and his mum's screams echoed in his head, bounding throughout his skull. Harry woken up to find that he was sprawled on the floor.

"Pup, it's alright if you want to rest. You'll need your energy-"

"Remus," Harry looked directly into his eyes. "I need to do this."

Remus sighed heavily. "Alright, if you're sure." He helped Harry sat up and sat down beside him. "I am curious, Harry. What memory did you choose?"

"The first time I ever rode a broom."

A soft smile curved Remus's lips. "A pleasant memory but still not strong. Not nearly as strong enough."

"But I thought you said it had to be a happy memory?" Harry asked.

"It does but it also should be powerful."

Powerful? Harry wracked his mind. He had nice memories, definitely happy ones, but a powerful one? He wasn't too sure about that one. After all, what qualified as a powerful memory? When he, Draco, and Ron raced through the secret corridor in the girls' room last year to save Ginny? When he faced off against Voldemort who was speaking through the back of Quirrell's head? They might be powerful but they certainly weren't pleasant. The reason why he had chosen the broom one was because that was one of the few memories from childhood he remembered, before when his life was simple, before Voldemort came in and tainted everything like a leech, before when his parents were alive.

He tried to expand on that memory focusing on the aftermath. How terrified and helpless he felt when Draco fallen off his broom, bruising his knee so severely, blood gushed from the wound. How fearful he was when his parents caught them, his dad hopping on one foot as he tried to slip the other shoe on, a frown pinching his mum's face as she took in the damaged brooms that were supposed to be inside, wrapped in their boxes, and meant to be opened later. How he held Draco tight after Mum healed his knee. How they woken up hours later to the lightening storm raging outside.

It was raining so hard, it was like fists were slamming against the window, trying to break in.

" _There you boys are." Daddy didn't seem that surprised to find them huddled together in Harry's closet. In fact he seemed amused, kneeling before them, a gentle smile on his face. The boys, though, didn't break their hold on each other, even after the closet doors flung open and they saw it was him instead of a monster. "Not a fan of lightening, I see."_

_Draco whimpered as thunder banged against the house, igniting the air like a madman's laughter. Harry bit his lip, as a roll of lightening unfolded, just as loud as thunder. He didn't trust himself to speak. He couldn't open his eyes, feeling them swimming in tears, struggling to keep them in._

_He shouldn't be scared like a little kid. He was James Potter's son. He should be as brave and fearless like him._

" _It's alright to be scared, boys." Harry shook his head. No, no it wasn't alright. He opened his eyes as he felt a hand run through his hair. Daddy pulled him onto his lap while he held Draco close to his side. "I'll let you in on a secret." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I get scared too sometimes."_

_Harry looked up at him, stunned. His daddy? Scared? "But you're brave. You fight the bad guys."_

" _And before and after each time, I'm scared out of my wits." he clarified with a chuckle. "But I discovered the secret to facing fear."_

" _What's that?" Draco asked for him._

" _Looking fear right in the eye and telling yourself this:_ You may be strong, fear, but I'm stronger _. Stronger, and incredibly more good-looking."_

_Harry released his bottom lip and felt a smile lifting it._

" _And," Mummy appeared by Daddy's side and tickled his stomach, stealing him from Daddy's lap and placing him on hers. Draco took his former spot, making himself right at home on Daddy's lap. "realizing that the secret behind that strength is love." She stroked his cheek. "Recognizing that it makes you fight harder, be braver. And that is never goes away."_

" _Really?" Harry asked. "But what if the person who loves you leaves? Like when they die?"_

_Mummy smiled at him. "That love still remains. Even if one day, Harry, your Daddy and I are gone, we'll always be around. Right," She placed her hand against his chest, where his heart was pulsing underneath her fingertips. "here."_

Harry's eyes snapped open. "I-I think I may have something."

Remus nodded and went over to the trunk. Harry rose from the ground and took out his wand.

When the dementor came out again, Harry gripped onto the memory with all his might, as if it was his lifeline, focusing on his dad's comforting words, his mum's gentle smile. The advice about bravery and love being the secret strength behind it.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " he screamed. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_   _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ "

The screaming inside Harry's head started again, except this time it sounded like static, blaring from a badly-turned radio, going soft then loud and back again. He could make out the dementor. The hooded spirit charged towards him. Before it could touch him, a huge, silvery shadow burst from the end of Harry's wand, hovering between him and the dementor, pushing it further and further away until it retreated back into the trunk.

When the dementor was finally gone, Harry sank to his knees, feeling winded as if he just completed a fifty-mile marathon. His ears were ringing so loudly, he could barely hear Remus.

"Well done, Harry! Well done!"

"T-thanks." he stammered.

"Here, eat this. It will help." Remus sat beside him and handed him a chocolate frog. Harry accepted the treat, taking small bites around the corners. "And just so you know, Harry, I think you would have given your father a run for his money. And that is truly saying something."

"I guess Dad was a bit of a troublemaker."

"The stories I could tell you, pup," Remus shook his head, amused. "We would be in here for hours if I recapped James Potter's greatest hits."

Harry smiled, but then the smile withered away as his mind went back to the memory he used. His dad's face that was so much like his, it was like looking into a mirror. His mother gorgeous with her dark red hair and green-green eyes, the only physical trait Harry inherited from her. "I was thinking about him actually," Harry confessed. "And Mum."

Remus smiled softly as he rubbed his shoulder. "The dead never leave us, Harry, not truly. You be sure to remember that."

"I know-" He was interrupted as a flowery scent brushed against his nose. The same one billowing from the goblet Severus brought over to Remus's office. The same one sprinkled onto Pansy's skin at the ball.

" _Aconitum. Supposedly, it's meant to protect the wearer from evil."_

"Pup? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Harry swallowed. "I didn't know you were into flowers."

Remus blinked, surprised. "Well, I garden sometimes."

His head swimming with thoughts, Harry nodded weakly. They both sensed it but Harry didn't call him on it. What he did do after the lesson, wishing Remus a goodnight, was rush over to the library, grateful that it was still opened, and went straight to the front desk for assistance.

"What was the name of the flower again, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pince asked.

"Aconitum."

Nodding to herself, the librarian walked all the way to the back of the library, near the restricted section that was forbidden section for students, the same one Harry and his friends had to break into to learn more about the Philosopher's stone. Madame Prince paused, then turned over to the shelf by her left, her finger brushing across the books on the top shelf, then the middle. On the second to last shelf, halfway through, she paused and pulled out a thick, gray-covered book that was tattered around the edges, the binding frail.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter. This book should you tell everything you need to know about the flower."

Thanking her, Harry set the book down on a desk and flipped through the pages, skimming through the passages. One of the pages showed a picture of the flower. It was like a dozen or so mini, deep-lavender flowers stringed together to make one big flower.

He remembered Severus showing him and Draco that flower during a potions lesson a few years back before they came to Hogwarts. Its beauty drew a young Harry in and that beauty, Severus said, was what made it so dangerous.

Harry flipped over to the next page and found a section that was dedicated to the flower's history.

**The flower has many names: aconite, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons. However towards the end of the 16** **th** **century, a new title was added to the collection. One more prominent than the others: Wolf's bane.**

**Besides silver to the heart and decapitation, it was discovered that the rare flower could be used against the animal. While it can't kill as immediately and effectively as silver, it can weaken the creature if enough dosages of the plant are flowing in their system. The best way of doing so is slipping enough dosages of the creature through food or drink while it's still a man before the full moon reaches its' peak.**

The book slipped through Harry's fingers as the dots began to connect.

_Dear…Merlin._


	23. May the Truth Set You Free (Part 1)

Harry wondered if he was some kind of oath-keeper in a past life or something. It was the only explanation he could think of as to why he kept stumbling upon constant mysteries and secrets. There was Sirius, the goofy godfather he remembered, the mad criminal Aurors were hunting, with an equal amount of evidence saying one thing and gut-instinct saying another. There was Draco with his glowing eyes and bizarre behavior, and the strange picture from the book he had yet discussed with his best friend that answered little and created more questions. And now the latest mystery/secret: Remus.

Shortly after he got what he needed from the library, Harry went back to his room and crawled into bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes, just needing sleep to take him far away. Realization refused to leave him though, crashing into his mind as he woke up the next day, circling around his head. As much as Harry tried not to think about it, tried pushing it away, the truth refused to die. So many pieces began to fall into place. Why Remus never stayed in one place for too long, his long and frequent absences, his exhausted appearance. There was also the tiny detail that happened during his stay at Moscow Harry had forgotten about till it resurfaced. Towards the end of the vacation, Remus dropped him off at a collegian's house, an elderly woman who made trays of lemon squares for Harry during his stay. Remus retrieved him almost a week later, looking even more worn out than he did before, more ragged.

" _Are you alright?" Harry asked._

_Remus tried fixing his mouth into a smile, but even something as simple as that seemed to take most of his energy. "Just recovering from the flu. I'll be better soon, pup. Don't worry."_

When he was done with his classes, Harry went back to the library, this time to do research on the creature. He was there for almost four hours, going through book after book, absorbing as much information his brain could contain. By the time he left, not only was his head spinning, but so was his stomach, as he recounted the large body count werewolves typically left in their wake. The images of that body count-men, women, children torn apart in ways not even pigs were butchered. Harry had to clamp his mouth to keep the nausea in. Then his mind went to Remus, Moony who taught Harry to read when he was barely two and helped encourage the passion, who wasn't always around but made sure to sent letters so he'd know he was thinking about him, who left Moscow for Hogwarts to be closer to him, with sharp fangs and claws coated with crimson red.

Harry bit his bottom lip hard to push the image away, to push down the nausea threatening to burst from him. He bit down on that lip so hard, blood filled his mouth.

Common sense screamed at him to tell Severus, to tell Dumbledore, to warn the students. Yet, a larger instinct overpowered that voice, telling him to push down the shock and nausea. To take slow, steady breaths.

"Hey, mate? You okay?"

Harry blinked and looked over at Ron, who was carrying a frantic Scabbers in his hands. The Gryffindor caught up with Harry after his Divination class, which was another day of loony predictions and cup-staring, and the two decided to take a walk around the campus.

"Just a lot on my mind." Understatement of the year. He stole a glance at the rat. Ron proposed the walk in hopes it would calm Scabbers's nerves. The rat has been in a frenzy since Halloween. "I don't think Scabbers has calmed down yet."

Ron frowned as he looked down at his pet rat. "I thought being home would make him feel better, but it didn't. Stupid Percy, being the suck-up twit that he is, thought I did something to him.  _Me?_  Can you believe that? If anything, he should be looking at Hermione and her devil-spawn animal she calls a cat. That beast has been eyeing Scabbers since she bought him from the pet-shop."

Harry rolled his eyes. While he was dealing with dementors and confliction, it was pet owner versus pet-owner over at Gryffindor wing. "Hermione swore up and down that her cat has been in her room all day. Plus, think about it, Ron. There's no way he could get into yours. He would need the password."

Ron didn't look satisfied, his frown deepening. "It was probably a Slytherin then. Those slimy snakes are always up to something."

Harry glared pointedly at Ron until the confusion on his face melted away to realization, his cheeks blushing from embarrassment.

"With the exception of you, of course," Ron said quickly. Harry rolled his eyes again. "Sorry, mate. I sometimes forget that you're a Slytherin. Truth be told, I honestly can't believe that you are one."

Another ancient argument that's been brought up countless times, going back and forth. Three years later and people still found it hard to believe that he wasn't in his parents' house, even more so that he was in the rival's one instead.

"I know this may come as a shock to you, Ron," Harry said. "but not all Slytherins are bad, you know. It's not like we gather around the common room and pay tribute to Satan with human sacrifices."

"Well, maybe not all of you. For others, though…"

As his voice trailed off, Harry turned over to the direction of where Ron's glare was directed. Draco was lounging on one of the rocks near the cliff overlooking Hagrid's hut. The blond smiled as he caught Harry's eye, then his smile sharpened when he saw who was with him.

"Weasel-bee," he drawled. "Here's some free advice. Try showering more than once a month and you'll go from smelling like trash to your pet rodent."

"Shut your mouth, Mal-"

" _You!_ "

The boys paused and turned. Hermione charged towards them, her eyes locked on Draco. She aimed countless glares at him before but that didn't hold a candle to the storm brewing in her eyes.

" _You foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach!_ " She backed Draco into a rock, the tip of her wand pressed against his neck.

Harry got in the middle of them, pulling Hermione back. "What's going on?"

Hermione's glare didn't waver. "What's going on is that your friend is a conniving, condescending, conceited-"

"Oh, big words for a little insect." Draco remarked.

Hermione lunged forward and Harry caught her, passing her over to Ron, before she had the chance to hex him.

"Enough!" Harry turned over to Draco, who sent him a smile that was way too smug, too sharp for its' own good. "What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing." The wicked glint in Draco's eyes contrasted with his innocent answer.

" _Nothing?!_ " Hermione repeated, stunned. "You call sabotaging my extra-credit project for Potions, completely messing up my potion, and causing it to blow up in Professor Snape's face _nothing_?"

 _Draco_. Biting down a curse, Harry said "I'm sure Snape will let you redo the assignment again, Hermione. He's, um, flexible." Somewhat, depending on the day. And his mood.

"Maybe for Slytherins," Ron unhelpfully peeped. "but not for the rest of us."

"Ron, not helping!"

"Especially not for  _insufferable know-it-alls_." Draco added.

"Draco!" Harry hissed.

"It was just a simple mistake, Granger." He shrugged.

" _A mistake?!_ " she echoed.

"You're familiar with the word, aren't you? It's the same one your parents said after you came into the wor-"

Draco's head nearly flew to the other direction, courtesy of the punch Hermione delivered to his face after she broke free of Ron's hold and pushed Harry aside.

"Hermione!  _What the hell?!_ " Harry got between the two and pushed her back. He looked back at Draco and inwardly flinched.

If there was one storm more deadly than the one in Hermione's eyes, it was the one blazing in Draco's as he slowly brought his head back, his left cheek swollen. "You filthy, wretched little insect-"

"Dog!" Ron yelped.

"What?" Harry asked, hands stretched out to Draco and Hermione's chests, struggling to keep the two apart.

"Dog!" Ron repeated, horrified.

Harry followed the direction of Ron's shaky finger, his arms dropping limply by his sides while his mouth dropped to the ground, his eyes widening.

Across from them was a dog, a dog that was almost as big as a bear, its fur black as night, dark eyes as cold and vicious as its' smile.

"Harry." Draco murmured, his anger forgotten.

"Do  _not_  move." Harry softly instructed.

Ron whimpered, clutching onto his rat.

The dog's eyes skimmed from one teen to another, widening a bit as they looked over at Harry, the look in them causing the hairs of Harry's neck to rise. It lunged and Harry expected to feel pain flaring up his leg. The only thing he felt was the cool breeze. What happened?

"Harry!"

The answer to that question was solved as he turned over and saw that Ron was being dragged away, his leg clamped in the dog's teeth.

"Harry!" he yelled.

"Ron!" Draco pulled Harry back before he could run. Hermione was already halfway down the cliff, chasing after them.

"Are you out of your mind, Potter?"

"If you want to head back to the castle, be my guest." Harry shrugged Draco's hold off his shoulder and ran. He heard a murmured curse and footsteps trailing behind him.

The three of them followed the sounds of Ron's screaming, tailing him and the dog deep into the forest, navigating their way through the maze of trees and twisted bushes. It seemed as if the further they ran, the faster the dog went. From what Harry's strained eyes could make out, Ron was struggling against the dog's hold, trying to hook onto a low branch or vine to anchor himself, but the dog was apparently as strong as he was fast, refusing to budge.

The dog ran straight towards the Whoomping Willow, disappearing underneath its' trunk.

"Guys!" Ron screamed before he was consumed by the tree.

The second the two were in, the tree came alive, standing taller, its branches squirming like octopus tentacles, whipping wildly in the air before slamming onto the ground to prevent Harry and his friends from entering. The force of the pounded roots was so strong, the ground vibrated underneath their feet.

"Dear Merlin." Draco grunted.

"We have to save Ron." Hermione said.

"We're not going to be saving anyone if we're roadkill, Granger."

"Duck!" Harry warned.

Three of those branches came down on them, twigs clenched like knuckles, the impact knocking the teens off their feet.

"If that dog can get in, so can we." Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches.

"Maybe we could-" Whatever Hermione was about to say was put on pause as one of the branches wrapped itself around her waist and flung her over the tree's head, twirling her around and around like some sort of yo-yo. "Harry!" she shrieked.

"Hermione!"

"Duck, you idiot!" Draco pushed him over to the right, just in time too as a thick branch pounded down at the spot where he stood less than a second ago, creating a deep dent into the ground.

When the branch carrying Hermione sprung towards them, she grabbed onto Harry's shirt, lifting him off his feet. Draco barely made it, grasping onto his waist, as the three were flung high into the air, spinning around and around so fast the forest become a swirl of green and gray. Finally, just when Harry was sure he was about to lose his lunch, the branch lowered itself onto the ground and tossed them underneath the tree.

Harry grunted as his stomach collided with the hard ground, getting the air knocked out of him. He grunted again as he felt a heavy weight settle onto his back as two more thumps followed behind him.

"Sorry." Hermione murmured.

"It's fine," Harry mumbled. "Are you guys alright?"

"I think so." Hermione said.

"I'm not!" Draco hissed.

Harry turned back. His back cushioned Hermione's upper body from the rough landing while Draco's, taking up most of her weight, covered the lower end.

"Get off me, Granger!"

Hermione quickly moved. Draco's frown deepened when he saw his clothes and most of his hair were coated in dirt. Growling, he said to her, "You can expect a bill from my healer-and my dry-cleaner."

"Why don't you-"

"Shut up!" Harry ordered, his eyes straining to see through the veil of darkness surrounding them. From what he could make out, they were in some sort of tunnel.

At the far end was a small flicker of light. Seeing as though there was no other way, the three crawled through the tunnel, trying not to notice the cold, wet texture of the ground below them. Or at least most of them weren't.

"The second we're back in school," Draco angrily muttered. "And after I've taken a very long, hot shower, I'm going to kill you three."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "And keep crawling."

It felt like for hours they were on their hands and feet, lined up behind the other, digging through the dirt and darkness. Eventually, as they got closer to the end where the source of light grew from a flicker to a patch, the area around them widened, promoting them to soon walk on their feet, then soon walk in the same line.

The rough, stony exterior of the tunnel was replaced by a room. A very disordered, dusty room. Papers peeling from the walls; stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture broken as though someone smashed it and the windows were all bordered up.

Harry glanced over at Draco, who swallowed nervously, then over at Hermione who looked very frightened.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole, looking around. The room was empty, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway.

"I think we're in the Shrieking Shack." Hermione said.

"The question is why." Harry muttered. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out; one of the back legs had been ripped off entirely. "Ghosts don't do that."

At the moment, there was a creak overheard, a quick but sharp sound that made them nearly jump. They looked up, Draco close to Harry's left, Hermione by his right. She held Harry's hands so tightly, he was sure he was losing circulation. They held their breaths as they heard more steps creaking over their heads.

Quickly as they could, they crept into the hall and up the crumbling stairs. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except for the floor, where a wide shiny strip had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

They reached a dark landing.

Harry looked over at his friends, who answered his silent question with a nod. Wand gripped tightly, he kicked the door wide open.

It was a bedroom. Judging by the broken antiques crowding the dresser and the four-poster bed with dusty, torn hanging, and the old piano that was set in the middle, it must have been a beautiful room once. On the opposite side of the bed was a blue velvet chair. Seated on the chair, clutching onto his leg, which stuck out at a strangle angle was Ron.

Harry and Hermione dashed over to him. Draco reluctantly followed behind.

"Ron, are you okay?"

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog." Ron grunted, his teeth clenched in pain.

Beside Harry, Draco went still as if he slipped into a trance. Fear flickered across his widened eyes.

"It's a trap!" he cried.

"What?"

" _He's the dog!_ " Ron cried. " _He's an Animagus!_ "

Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder. Harry wheeled around, heart shuddering underneath his chest.

Years on the run had not been kind to Sirius. If it weren't for the wild glint of light flashing in his eyes, Harry would have mistaken him for a corpse. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung at his elbows. His skin lost most of its color and was almost as waxy as a candle, stretching tightly over the bones of his once-handsome face that aged at least two decades. His yellowed teeth were fixed into a crazed grin.

"My, how you've grown." His eyes lit in dark glee as they examined him.

 _Dear. Merlin._  Harry cursed himself for not recognizing the dog.

"If you want Harry, you're gonna have to kill us too!" Ron said.

"Only one will die tonight." Sirius promised.

"And it will be you," Draco's eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped before Harry. "If you as so much take another step."

Sirius smirked, placing one foot forward. Harry and Hermione took out their wands.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Remus shouted.

Their wands flew out of their hands. Remus caught them as he entered into the room, eyes locked on Sirius, his wand an inch away from the man's neck.

"Well, well, Sirius. Looking a bit ragged, are we? Finally the flesh reveals the madness within."

Sirius rotated his body halfway over to him, the smirk still hanging on his lips. "Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?"

Remus stared at him for a second or two before he lowered his wand. Sirius jumped into his arms and Remus embraced him fiercely.

_What?!_

"I found him." Sirius whispered excitedly as they broke apart, still holding each other close.

"I know." Remus said gently, as if he was talking to a child in the middle of a sugar rush instead of an alleged mad criminal.

"He's here."

"I understand."

"Let's kill him."

" _No!_ " Hermione yelled. "I trusted you! And all this time you've been his friend."

The left corner of Remus's lip curled, but it was too faint, too calculating to be considered a smile.

"He's a werewolf!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "That's why he's been missing classes."

"Brava, Granger. Groundbreaking discovery," Draco commented. "However would you please mind explaining to us how that's  _relevant to anything?!_ "

"It is. To everything." She didn't tear her eyes away from Remus, as if she expected him to tear them into ribbons any second.

"How long have you known?" Remus demanded.

"Since Professor Snape set up the essay."

Wonder shone in his eyes. "Well, Hermione, you truly are the brightest witch of your age. Although," His eyes shifted over to Harry. "It seems someone else may have connected the pieces together before you did."

Three set of bewildered eyes aimed towards Harry, demanding answers. Answers he didn't have.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't move, eyes locked on Remus and Sirius, his head pounding with thoughts and questions.

He was right about Remus. He was actually right about him. Did that mean he was also right about-

"Enough talk, Remus!" Sirius snapped. "Come on, let's kill him!"

"Wait-"

"I DID MY WAITING!" Sirius shouted. "SIX YEARS OF IT! Being hunted down like a damn dog!"

The determination and rage set upon the man's face was absolute. He wanted bloodshed and his shrieks made it clear whose blood he wanted. Remus sighed heavily as he handed over his wand.

"Very well," he said. "but wait one moment. Harry has the right to know."

"I know why," Harry said. The man before him barely resembled the fun-loving, mischievous godfather he remembered. He perfectly fitted the image of the madman that was plastered across the wanted posters. The accused traitor who ran after his best friend and his wife were murdered. "You betrayed my parents. You're the reason they're dead."

"No, Harry," Remus replied. "Someone  _did_ betray your parents but it was somebody who, until quite recently, I believed to be dead."

Someone else? Could it- _no._  No, it wasn't possible. There was no one else. The Aurors said all the clues and angles pointed right at Sirius. Yet the ribbon of doubt lingering in Harry's chest quivered, rolling faster than before, growing. "Who was it then?"

"Peter Pettigrew!" Sirius answered. "And he's in this room right now. Come out, come out, Peter. Come out and play!"

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Remus's wand flew out of his hand. Severus strode into the room in a swirl of black, his eyes lit in dark, malicious glee as they darted from Remus to Sirius, the curved edge of his mouth sharp as a knife.

"Vengeance is sweet." he declared. "I'd hope I'd be the one to catch you."

"Severus-" Remus was cut off as Severus aimed his wand towards his direction.

"I told Dumbledore you were helping an old friend into the castle and now…here's the proof."

Sirius scoffed, the hatred blazing in his eyes just as bright as Severus's. The familiar gesture brought to mind the innumerable arguments and glaring matches between the two. "Brilliant, Snape. Once again you put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and, as usual, come to the wrong conclusion. Now, if you would excuse us, Remus and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

Severus closed the distance between them and jabbed his wand into Sirius's throat. "Give me a reason. I  _beg_  you."

Remus tried reasoning with him. "Severus, don't be a fool."

"He can't help it," Sirius taunted. "It's a habit by now."

"Sirius, be quiet!"

"Be quiet yourself, Remus!"

"Listen to you two," Severus drawled. "Quarreling like an old married couple."

"Why don't you run along and play with your chemistry set?" Sirius spat.

His snarl died into a pained hiss as Severus dug his wand deeper into his throat. "I could do it, you know. But why deny the Dementors? They're so longing to see you." Sirius tried to brush off the words, but they struck something deep inside him. A shudder rattled his body, a move that was easily picked up by Severus. "Do I detect a flicker of fear? Oh, yes. The Dementor's kiss. One could only imagine what that must be like. It's said to be nearly unbearable to witness but I'll do my best!"

"Severus-" He whirled over to Remus, his black eyes just as deadly as his drawn wand.

"And as for you, I predict a permanent leave of absence as well as a one-way trip to Azkaban in your future."

If Sirius or Remus were put away, then the truth went with them. Remus said that it wasn't Sirius. That someone else betrayed his parents. Harry had to know who. He looked to Draco and saw that his wand was tucked into his back pocket. He leaned in and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Severus, please!"

"After you!" Severus glanced over at Harry and his friends and nodded his head towards the door.

 _Forgive me, uncle._  Harry drew Draco's wand from his pocket and stepped in front of the group. He directed the tip in front of Sirius, then quickly shifted it over to Severus. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

The spell bounced off Severus, knocking him into the bed that fell apart from the strong impact, shattered pieces raining down on his unconscious body.

In front of Harry, widened eyes gawked at him. Behind him, jaws were dropped. Harry spared a look at his friends. It was hard to tell between the three who was the most shocked.

"Harry," Ron breathed. "What did you just do?"

"You attacked a teacher." Hermione said.

"You attacked  _Snape_." Draco clarified.

Harry understood their shock. He also knew that as soon as Severus woke up, he would have his head, his neck, his hide-everything. He couldn't think about that now. He had to get answers. "Tell me about Peter Pettigrew."

"He was in school with us," Remus said. "We thought he was our friend."

"No, Pettigrew is dead," Harry glanced at Sirius. "You killed him."

"No, he didn't," Remus insisted. "I almost thought so too until Sirius showed me the map."

The map? The Marauders' Map? The same one that's been missing since before Winter break? His eyes fell on Sirius. Well, that solved one mystery. "The map was lying then."

"The map never lies." Sirius's tone rang of absolute. "Pettigrew is alive. And he's right there." He pointed right at Ron.

" _Me?!_ " Ron gasped. "He's mental, I'm telling you-"

"Not you, you twat!" Sirius snapped. "Your rat!"

Ron gawked at the man and held his frantic pet against his chest. "Scabbers has been in my family for-"

"Six years!" Sirius finished. "Curiously long life for a common garden rat. He's missing a toe, isn't he?"

"So what?"

Ron might not have understood the significance of the seemingly-small detail, but Harry did, feeling the wheels turning in his head. Minister Fudge's words replayed in his mind. The wreckage that was left behind, tearing through an entire Muggle neighborhood. The thirteen bodies lying throughout the ruined place, and a single body part that was left of the deceased Marauder. "All they could find of Pettigrew was his-"

"Finger!" Sirius exclaimed. "The dirty coward cut it off so that everyone would think he was dead!"

"Coincidence then!" Draco said. "Missing limbs aren't exactly uncommon with rats."

"Maybe not," Sirius focused his burning glare at the pet. "But I recognize that bastard's form anywhere. I was there when he picked his Animagus form. I only wished I realized then how it was such a fitting choice for him."

Scabbers squealed, trying to slip out of Ron's hold.

"Six years of endless searching led me straight to Egypt. And when I saw him out there while he was perched on the twat's shoulder, I got a clear enough look to know that I finally found him. Maybe it was a risk striking in such a public place, but I was more than happy to exterminate now and ask questions later."

Ron's eyes were so wide; they nearly took up his whole face. "That's why you were in the flee market? To kill Scabbbers?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't there to do antique-shopping!"

"You're mad!" Hermione cried.

"I'm telling the truth!"

"That's just the thing a liar would say to save his skin," Draco remarked. "Right after making up a ridiculous story."

Or was he? Harry's eyes drifted over from Sirius that was twisted in deep rage over to Scabbers who was squirming in Ron's hands, trying to escape. Sirius sounded more than mad; he sounded obsessive, and completely delusional. And yet…"Ron, give him the rat."

"Harry, are you insane?"

"Ron, give it to him!"

"No way-" Sirius was beyond the point of waiting and listening. He snatched the rat out of Ron's hands. "Leave him alone! Scabbers!"

The rat was squealing loudly, nearly screaming, as he tried to claw his way out of Sirus's grip. When Sirius tossed him onto the piano, he jumped and scrambled across the room, dodging the blasts shooting from Sirius's borrowed wand. He tried to run to the door but was finally hit.

A flash of bright light filled the room, nearly blinding them. Once it finally faded, they were able to open their eyes.

In Scabbers's place was a scrunched-up, plump man who was only a few inches shorter than Harry and Hermione with thinning, dirty-blonde hair and a large bald spot on top of his hand. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and there was something rat-like lingering on his nose and his small, watery eyes.

"Oh my…" Harry heard Hermione mutter behind him. He didn't even need to turn around to know that Ron's jaw practically hit the ground, sensing his shock that was billowing out like fumes.

"That's not even my rodent, Weasley," Draco said. "And I already feel severely violated for you."

Pettigrew dropped his hands he was nibbling on like they were cheese. He looked around the room, his breathing shallow and hard.

"Hello Peter." Remus said pleasantly, as if rats turning into long-lost friends were an everyday occurrence. "Long time, no see."

"S-Sirius….R-Remus…" Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. "My old friends."

He jumped from the floor and ran towards the door but the two were ready for him, pushing him back and blocking the doorway. Panicked, he looked over the room for a second exit, but as his eyes fell on Harry, they widened in amazement. "Harry, look at you."

Draco took back his wand and stood in front of Harry, blocking him from sight, directing the glowing end at the rat. Pettigrew barely seemed to notice, all of his attention focused on Harry.

"You look so much like your father. Like James. We were the best of friends, him and I-"

"How dare you speak to Harry?" Sirius snarled. Pettigrew tried fleeing again, but Sirius was hot on his heels. " _How dare you talk about James in front of him?!_ "

Pettigrew ran over to the piano but realized too late he backed himself into a corner. Remus by his left, Sirius by his right, wands drawn, faces hard as stone.

"You sold James and Lily to Voldemort, didn't you?" Remus demanded.

"I didn't mean to." Pettigrew nearly sobbed. "But the Dark Lord, you have no idea the weapons he possesses." He pointed an accusing finger over to Sirius. "Ask yourself, Sirius. What would you have done?  _What would you have done?!_ "

" _I WOULD'VE DIED!_ " The fury in Sirius's voice was as thunderous as it was venomous. "I would've died rather than betray my friends!"

Pettigrew ducked under the piano and attempted to run to the door. Harry broke free of Draco's hold and stood in front of it, blocking his path. With a hysterical whimper, Pettigrew's hands latched themselves onto Harry's shirt, smudging the sky-blue material with his dirt-encrusted fingers.

His hot, foul breath blasted onto Harry's face as he leaned in close, pleading, "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed. Your father-he would've shown me mercy!"

Sirius and Remus yanked him back. Remus held Pettigrew tight while Sirius stood in front of them, the tip of his wand flowing bright, Avada-green.

"I can't tell you how many times I dreamt about this, you pathetic, backstabbing, spineless little-"

"No!" Harry ordered.

Sirius didn't lower his wand but he did turn to Harry. They all did, questions swirling in their eyes, wondering why he stopped the execution.

"Potter, are you mad?" Draco asked.

"Harry, this man-" He cut Remus off, eyes locked on the trembling man that was practically wetting his pants.

"I know what he is. I also know that if he dies, then the truth dies with him." He glanced over Sirius. "Which means you'll still be blamed and hunted down."

Sirius looked like he wanted to protest, but had no rebuttal.

"We take him back to the castle."

"Bless you!" Pettigrew looked like he would've hugged him if he wasn't being held by Remus. "Bless you, you dear boy-"

"I said we'd get you back to the castle." Harry reminded him. "After that, the dementors can have you."

A look of pure terror crossed the man's face at the mention of the dementors. "No! Please no! I'll do anything. Anything! I swear-"

A flare of blue energy shot across the room and slammed against the side of Pettigrew's head, knocking him out of Remus's arms, onto the floor, out cold.

Harry turned back to the direction where the spell came from, watching Draco twirl his wand around his fingers.

"Well, I don't know about you lot," he said. "but if I had to listen to that annoying rodent squeal a second longer, I would have happily killed him myself."


	24. May the Truth Set You Free (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided whether or not I should post it since the last one left on a cliffhanger and wanted the suspense to keep you guys on your toes, but since it is the holiday season decided to keep with 2-chapter rhythm

What a strange, odd group they must have made. If someone were to look out the window, to the south side of the Forbidden forest and made out the squinted figures coming out from the Whoomping Willow, Harry imagined that person wondering if their eyes were playing a trick on them or if that was a sign from their brain telling them it was time to put away the books and get to bed.

In their odd group, leading in the front was Ron with his twisted leg, being propped up by Hermione and Sirius. Behind them was Severus was hanging off the ground, dangled like a puppet thanks to Harry and Draco who were levitating him with their magic. And finally, in the far back was Remus, who was dragging a half conscious, whimpering Pettigrew whose pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Sorry about the leg," Sirius said, noticing Ron's wince. "Got a bit carried away."

" _A bit?!_ " Ron echoed, incredulous. "You nearly tore off my leg."

"I was trying to get the rat." Even from the angle he was in, Harry could see the sheepish grin Sirius shot Ron in hopes of softening the sting. Unfortunately for him, Ron wasn't charmed. "Spent so much time as a dog, the instincts just come on naturally. James tried to convince me more than once to make the transformation more permanent. The tail I can live with, but the fleas." He made a sour face as if he sucked a bad lemon. "They're murder I'm telling ya."

"Mr. Black?" Hermione said. "I'm still confused though. I've checked the records of all registered Animagus and, including Professor McGonagall, there are seven listed. You and Pettigrew weren't mentioned. Why is that?"

As Sirius launched into an explanation, Draco rolled his eyes. "Trust Granger to turn everything into a classroom lesson."

Trust Draco to make a snarky comment. Any other time Harry would've called him out. Right now, though, he simply let the comment slide, as a stream of tangled thoughts flooded his head.

"Hey, are you alright?" Irritation cleared from Draco's eyes as he looked at him.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, unsure what to say. After all, what could he say?

The man in front of him who for years people thought was the Dark Lord's right-hand man and betrayed his parents was actually innocent, just as he claimed. The man behind Harry was a werewolf that lied to him about who he was. The man that was being dragged by the werewolf was the actual traitor that had been masquerading as one of his friend's pet. The man Harry and Draco were holding up with their magic was knocked out because Harry was desperate to know the truth and would have his head as soon as he woke up, which Harry hoped wouldn't be for a  _long_  while.

It was all so strange, it was almost laughable. So unbelievable, he was sure he was dreaming. So ridiculous, his head was throbbing.

"Harry?"

"I-I don't know," he finally said.

Draco frowned, but he couldn't argue since Harry did give him a truthful answer. "This doesn't change anything. You hear me? Nothing."

As much as Harry wanted to believe that, wanted to think that things would fall into place after they were done here, he knew that wasn't going to happen. A glance at Sirius, who was watching him intently, confirmed that.

He was right about Sirius. Right for not doubting him,about the dog, the broom; everything. It should have made Harry feel light, almost weightless. Instead the stack of questions piling up in his head weighed down heavily on him.

Ron's pained moans were getting so loud, Hermione insisted that they stopped for a quick rest. She sat Ron down on one of the rocks and drew her wand at Pettigrew as Remus tended to Ron's leg, threatening to hex him if he as so much as moved. Draco propped Severus against another rock. Ron kept throwing Remus anxious, distrustful glances, still uneasy around the werewolf.

Despite his anger of having the truth hidden from him for so long, a twinge of sympathy went off in Harry's chest. He wondered how many of those looks Remus had to endure over the years.

Harry walked close to the edge of the cliff and looked over at the castle that was close enough to see but still far away. If they kept it up at this rate, they should be there in two hours or so. Maybe even an hour and a half if they got Ron to hussle along. A frown curved his mouth. They could try levitating him, but that would mean extra magic, and with his twisted leg, there was a good chance it would hurt him even more. Maybe they could-

"I can practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours." Sirius said.

Managing not to jump from surprise, Harry slowly counted backwards from three, trying to sort out his thoughts, and turned over to him. A stammered, tight breath escaped Sirus's mouth as he stared at Harry with red, glassy eyes.

He kneeled down and placed his hand against Harry's cheek, the skin rough with cuts and cool to the touch. "I expect you're tired of hearing this, but you look so much like your father. Except your eyes." He smiled."You have-"

"My mother's eyes." Harry finished in a murmur.

"It's cruel that I got to spend so much time with James and Lily, and so little with you," he said. "But I swear, kiddo, I'll make it up to you. Once we clear up this whole mess, we'll be a proper family. You'll see."

The smile that had started to grow on his face vanished as realization hit him. After tonight, the truth would be known and Sirius would be a free man, which meant he'd no longer be hunted, which meant he could have his life back. Which also meant, if approved, he could have Harry back. Which…caused more thoughts to fill his head.

"Sirius-" Harry was cut off by a scream, calling their attention to the back.

Just as a cloud shifted in the sky, bathing them in moonlight.

Severus, who gained consciousness and was up on his feet, pushed Draco and Hermione behind him. Sirius grasped onto Harry's arm. Ron sat frozen.

Remus stood still, his eyes staring off into space, seeing nothing. Then his limbs began to shake.

"Oh my!" Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run!" Sirius warned. "Run. Now."

Harry couldn't. Ron was dabbed in the middle between Remus and Pettigrew. He leapt forward but Sirius caught him around the chest and threw him back.

"Leave it to me. RUN!"

A sound slammed against their eardrums: terrible snarling, limbs twisting. Remus's head was expanding, as was his body. His shoulders hunched, hair sprouted everywhere-visibly on his face and his hands, which were curling into clawed paws. He backed away-

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. Then, in a flash of light, his enormous dog form leaped torwards Remus. As the werewolf wrenched itself free from the manacle binding it, the dog seized it around the neck and pulled it back, away from Ron and Pettigrew. They were locked, jaw to jaw, ripping at each other-

Harry stood, transfixed by the sight, too engaged in the battle to notice anything else. It was Hermione's scream that alerted him.

She and Draco were knocked onto their backs. Pettigrew knocked Severus away, against one of the rocks, and slammed Ron to the ground, diving for Remus's fallen wand.

 _Oh no you don't!_  Rage boiled in Harry's blood. He'd be damned before he let that bastard escape after everything he's done. " _Stupefy!_ "

Pettigrew tried to deflect the attack, but he was no match for Harry's fury that caused the spell to fire from his wand like a lightning bolt. It knocked him against a thick oak tree, blood leaking from his forehead that sported a nasty bruise.

There was a howl and a pained cry. Harry turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was racing into the forest. But the dog-Harry couldn't see the dog.

"Sirius!" he yelled.

A pained cry answered back. Then yelping, a dog in pain-

"Hermione, Ron, stay with them! Don't let Pettigrew out of your sight! Bind him!" Harry set off in a run, Draco hot on his heels. The yelping was coming from the lake. They pelted towards it, and Harry, running so hard his lungs were burning, felt the cold without realizing what it meant.

It was when the yelping stopped did he realize why. Sirius was back in his human form, body scrunched into a ball, hands over his head.

" _No!_ " he begged. " _No…please!_ "

That was when Harry saw them. Dementors, close to a hundred of them, gliding in a mass of black, around the lake, inching closer towards them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides. Fog was starting to cloud his vision. An unsettling ring blared in his ears. More dementors were coming out, appearing from the shadows, at every possible corner, closing in on them.

"Draco, think of something happy!" Harry yelled, blinking his eyes furiously to clear the fog, shaking his head to silence the faint screaming that started, building in volume.

Sirius wasn't the traitor. He didn't betray him. He didn't betray his parents.

" _Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!_ "

Sirius shuddered, rolled onto his back, and laid motionless on the ground, pale as death.

He ran and hid for so many years because he wanted to clear his name. More than that, he wanted to make it right.

" _Expecto Patronum!_  Draco, help me!"

"I'm trying!" he cried. "Too….many….s-so cold."

Draco couldn't do it. The dementors surrounded them; cold darkness like a round of punches swinging from every possible angle.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Harry yelled, trying to block the screaming ringing in his head.

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like a mist before him. At the same moment, Harry felt Draco collapse next to him. He was alone…completely alone…

" _Expecto-Expecto Patronum_ -"

Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass, fog clouding his eyes. He fought against the dizziness, against the cold to remember.

Sirius was innocent-innocent-they were going to be okay-they were going to be alright-

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " he gasped.

By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a dementor was right by him, blocked but unfazed by the cloud of sliver mist. A dead, slimy hand slid out from underneath the cloak.

"No!" Harry gasped. "He's innocent.  _Expecto-Expecto Patronu_ …"

He felt hundreds of their eyes watching him, hearing their rattling breathing like an evil wind around him. The one in front raised both rotten hands and lowered its hood.

Where they should have been eyes was only a thin, gray scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. With a mouth, a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.

A paralyzing terror filled Harry, taking away his ability to move or speak. His Patronus flickered and went out like a light.

White fog was blinding him. He had to fight…he had to…

" _Don't worry so much, lion," Daddy said, lightly brushing his knuckle against Harry's cheek as if he could knock the frown off his face. "I'm sure this Malfoy kid will adore you. And if not, then it's his loss."_

His head was pounding as if hundreds of searing-hot hammers were swinging against every inch of his skull.

_Warmth curled his chest as the blond prince smiled at him, reaching for his hand. "I never had a best friend before either. I didn't like any of the other kids. They're not as fun as you."_

He couldn't breathe. It was like his lungs turned to lead, completely frozen by the intense cold.

" _I'm the shortest kid in my class."_

" _Well then you're the tallest short person I ever saw."_

He wasn't being beaten by the cold. He was being consumed, his skin devoured by its teeth, bones ripped apart by its claws.

" _You don't hate me, Mummy? Right?"_

" _Never," she smiled. "I could never hate you, Harry. There will be times when I get upset with you. Even angry, but never hate. You're my son and I love you."_

He was being pulled under, dragged straight to the bottom of the sea, the ice filling him up. He reached for something, needing an anchor to keep him alfoat. He felt a cold, limp hand. It was hard to tell if it was Sirius's hand or Draco's. The fog blinded him.

" _Looking fear right in the eye and telling yourself this:_ you may be strong, fear, but I'm stronger. _"_

Dad…his goofy, fun-loving, brave Dad, dashing out of the room to face a madman in hopes of saving his family.

_Mummy smiled at him. "That love still remains. Even if one day, your Daddy and I are gone, Harry, we'll always be around."_

Mum….using every second of her remaining life to save him, pleading over and over that he be spared.

Sirius…Sirius, who was hunted down for a crime he didn't commit. Draco, unconscious next to him, who cursed at Harry for dragging him into danger but refused to have him face it alone. His parents, his fearless Dad and brilliant Mum, who did everything within their power to save him.

" _Right," She placed her hand against his chest, where his heart was pulsing underneath. "here."_

No. No, it couldn't end like this. Not after everything. Harry refused. It wouldn't end like this.

Mustering every drop of energy he had in his body, gathering every flicker of rage and hatred of what had been lost to him, channeling every ounce of determination to  _fight_ , Harry wrapped his cold fingers around his wand and raised his numb body off the ground. He looked into the dementor's eyeless face and raised his wand.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " he yelled.

At the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. Far bigger, more magnificent than the one he conjured up in the classroom. It charged onto the dementors head-on like a bull, its brightness cutting through them like paper, knocking them back, forcing them to retreat and scatter until the last one was gone.

The Patronus turned, walking back to Harry. It wasn't a bull, its body much broader and shorter. It was a lion, a beautiful, powerful lion glowing as brightly as the moon above.

It made no sound on the soft ground as it stared deeply into Harry's eyes with its own large, silvery ones. Slowly, it bowed its head.

He lifted his hand to touch the animal, but slowly it vanished from sight, just as heaviness started to settle in his body.

Harry fell onto the ground, blackness sweeping across his vision.

* * *

" _James!" Daddy didn't turn back once as he ran out the room, his footsteps growing softer till they faded away._

Come back. Don't go. _Those words were hanging off the tip of his tongue, but they refused to come out. Fear held a tight grip on him-on his mouth, his throat, everything._

" _It's okay, baby," Mummy said. "It's okay."_

_Fear tightened its' grip as green light glowed from underneath the door and a heavy thump hit the floor. He didn't ask what it was, didn't want to know the answer, but the dry sob that escaped from Mummy's lips and the drips of tears that rained onto his head painted a clear picture for him._

Daddy. _A sob rose to his throat, but it was like his tongue was frozen, blocking everything._

_Mummy ran her hand through his hair and tilted his head up. Tears blurred his vision, stinging his eyes, but he made out the soft smile on her lips as tears rolled down her cheeks. "You are so loved, Harry. Mama loves you. Daddy loves you. More than anything else in the world."_

_Creaking crept down the hall. They were different from Daddy's steps; slower and heavier, growing louder and louder with each step._

_She attempted to wipe the tears away and cupped his face. "Be safe, sweetie. Be strong."_

_He didn't feel strong. He felt the exact opposite of strong. He felt weak. Worse than weak, he felt small and helpless._

_Almost as if she could read his thoughts, she kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger there for a moment longer, hot tears falling onto his head. She then brought him to her chest, holding him tight, as the door burst open._

_Dark magic filled the air like hot, thick gas, making it almost hard to breathe._

_She placed him on the floor and stood in front. "Not Harry. Please. I'll do anything."_

_Biting his lip to hold in his sobs, Harry held himself tightly and focused on the back of Mummy's head, on the strands of crimson red that were almost as bright as the shade of her favorite lipstick, like the crumbling autumn leaves falling from the trees. He focused all his attention on the strands of red touched by the moonlight pouring in from his windows._

" _Stand aside, foolish girl." The voice, so dark, so cold, caused goosebumps to prick his skin, digging underneath and twisting his insides._

" _No, please!"_

_Green light filled the room, so bright that Harry could barely see anything. Except for Mummy's form standing in front of him, slowly swinging to the right as if she was pushed, streams of red as bright as her hair pouring out of her, raining down on him and the floor. Her screaming, echoing throughout the room like a horrible, soul-piercing crescendo, finally ended as she hit the floor._

_His heart leaped up to his throat, blocking the screams trying to burst their out._

Mummy.

_An invisible hand gripped onto his face, forcing him to look up._

I can be brave,  _he told himself, trying to remember what Daddy said. Look fear in the eye and say that you're stronger. Look fear in the eye and say that you're stronger. Look-_

_Crimson-red eyes stared down at him, gleaming in wicked delight, as the man raised his wand, the tip glowing bright green._

"Avada Kedavra! _"_

A gasp tore through his throat as he shot up from the bed, his heart practically leaping from his chest. The brightness of the room temporarily blocked his shock, burning his eyes. He shut them tight, reopening them slowly, bit by bit. As he took in slow, shallow breaths, shock melted away as his brain became more alert, picking up details.

Like the fact he was back in the hospital wing, lying in the same bed he was in last time he was hurt. That he was shivering despite the tight snug of the five layers of blankets wrapped around his body. That someone else was in the bed with him, someone who was rubbing his shoulder.

"Deep breaths, pup." Remus instructed. "Deep breaths."

Millions of questions rose in his head, but Harry focused on breathing, trying to calm his heartbeat. Once it was finally back to normal and his breathing was even, a mug was shoved underneath his nose.

Deciding not to waste energy protesting, Harry accepted the drink. Hot chocolate filled his mouth, the scent of mint tickling his nose. He finished his drink in several, large gulps, not even minding his burnt tongue, and the mug was filled up again by Remus who filled it yet again as soon as it was empty.

By the third cup, Harry stopped shivering, finally warm. By the fourth, he was finally, fully awake. Awake to take note of how heavy and stiff his limbs felt, as if he was frozen for years, the faint twinge of pain throbbing by his temples like he had a whole bottle to himself without taking a drop.

"How long have I been out?" he croaked, his voice groggy.

"About three days." Remus answered calmly, as if it was normal for a person to be asleep for that long.

" _Three days?!_ " Harry exclaimed.

"Hush, hush," Remus gently said, filling his mug with more hot chocolate. "It's best not to strain yourself, pup."

"What about Draco? Hermione? Ron? Are they alright?"

"A few cuts and bruises. Mr. Weasley definitely was shaken, from both the late-night events and his leg. Thankfully the good Madame was able to treat him. However Mr. Malfoy seemed even more distort. Demanded to see you and each time he was denied, he threatened to revoke Madame's license-along with a number of other threats. Very colorful ones, mind you."

Yup, that definitely sounded like Draco.

Once Harry was done with his hot chocolate and he saw the kettle was empty, Remus left it on the nightstand and moved over to the chair, bringing it close to the bed and tucking a book near the side.

" _Inferno_  by Dante Alighieri," he said, noticing Harry staring. "Or commonly known as  _Dante's Inferno_. Very interes-"

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" Harry cut him off. "Why did you lie?"

Remus's mouth hung open, his eyes widening at the blunt demand. When he looked into Harry's solemn face, he understood there was no other way around it. Sighing, he put away the book and stared down at his hands that were entwined together. "Pup, you must believe me when I say that was never my intention."

"Maybe not but that's what you did anyway. All this time I thought you were sick. That you had a weak immune system. When really you're just-just-" He took in a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. "Have you," Harry hesitated in asking the question, recognizing it as a heavy blow, but knew it needed to be asked. "Have you ever hurt anyone?"

Remus looked like he much rather be punched in the gut than answer the question. Still he did, although it looked like it was almost a painful thing for him to do. "Yes."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

That questioned seemed almost twice as painful to answer. Remus miserably slumped in his chair. "Few times when instincts…triumphed over rationality, I came close. Incredibly close. One incident happened right here in Hogwarts when I was a student. The...person...who unfortunately crossed my path barely escaped."

Harry stared at him, blinking his eyes slowly.

"I was very young when I was bitten, Harry. About three or four. Till the end, that was a question that often troubled my parents. How did a werewolf manage to get past the wards, into the house? Sadly, there was no answer just as there was no cure. The bite is not like the flu. While they can share similar symptoms, the bite isn't treatable. You simply must live with it." Remus sighed, staring straight ahead, almost as if he could see his younger-self. "For my safety, as well as for tat of the community, my parents kept me strictly restricted in the house. Barely had any visitors and if so, then I was hidden. Often in my room or the library or…when the time came, in the cellar."

"That-" Harry struggled for the right words. "that must have been lonely."

Remus shrugged weakly with one shoulder. "I wasn't always alone. Not truly. I had my books. They made wonderful companions."

Harry's mind went back to how life was for him before he met Draco, when his only friends were Sirius, his toys, and his books.

"When I came to Hogwarts, my expectations weren't exactly high. I made plans to stay scarce and focus on my schoolwork. I had no idea I'd come across an understanding headmaster who'd help me through the rough nights."

Dumbledore. Harry wasn't too surprised. No matter how hard someone tried to conceal the truth, the headmaster always seemed to know. His mind went back to the Whoomping Willow with its mysterious passageway that led them straight to the Shrieking Shack. How the room looked like it was torn apart, such as the chair that was missing most of its parts, including a leg. "The Shrieking Shack? He built that for you."

Remus nodded. "I, well, I tend to get quite destructive during the full moon, and end up harming myself in the process. My screams got so loud that people from the village assumed it was ghosts."

Harry shook his head, amazed.

"As well as having an understanding headmaster, I also had a group of loyal friends," For once a faint smile appeared on his face and stayed there. "Friends who refused to have me go through the full moon alone. Naturally, all wizards and witches have to register to the Ministry for taking on an Animagus form, but, well, your father was never one for the rules. He picked a stag, Sirius a dog, and Peter a rat."

A scowl pinched Harry's face as he thought of him, the actual traitor who pinned his crimes on an innocent man and spent years hiding as a rat. "What happened to Pettigrew?"

"Well, he tried once more to escape but was severely weakened by your hex." Remus inclined his head in an approving nod. "Excellent shot may I add. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley managed to bind him and bring him back to the castle. Dumbledore summoned Minister Fudge to his office, and also for Severus to bring a batch of Veritaserum. With the potion in his system, Pettigrew confessed to everything-being the real oathkeeper, framing Sirius, and pledging his loyalties to Voldemort a year before your parents' deaths."

" _What?!_ " A year? The whole time his parents were planning to hide and the Ministry was trying to track Voldemort; Pettigrew was already under his thumb. "Are you serious?"

"Regrettably, yes. Sirius found out-sadly too late. When he confronted Pettigrew, he saw the dark mark on his arm. And over the years, he gathered up information about Pettigrew's missions."

Harry's mind was spinning, A whole year Pettigrew was serving the Dark Lord, and then for six more was living comfortably (in a way) while Sirius spent that time running for his life. "So what happens now?"

"Pettigrew has been sentenced to life at Azkaban. Originally the Minister was pushing for the Dementor's kiss, but Dumbledore thought life-time isolation was a much better-suited punishment."

As much as Harry would rather have the rodent dead, he had to admit Dumbledore's choice made sense. Death, as painful as it might be, especially when having your soul sucked out of you, was easy. Too quick. And the rodent deserved so much more after ruining so many lives.

However, his mind was still not at ease yet. Although some of his questions were answered, there was still others floating around his head. Including the most important one. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"

"Yes," Remus confessed. "Eventually. Later on though."

"How much longer? When I turn sixteen? When I finally graduate? When I have kids of my own and want them to meet their uncle Remus?" Harry couldn't contain the biting anger that slipped into the last sentence, even if Remus winced.

"Harry," Remus sighed so heavily, as if the breath was coming from the very depth of his body. "I…when your parents told me they were expecting you and they wanted me to be the second godfather, I declined because I was so scared that I would lose control and end up hurting you. I couldn't bear the thought. Then," A soft, whimsical look crossed his eyes. "Your dad handed you over to me." His eyes shifted back to him. "You were such a beautiful baby, pup, and I fell in love with you almost instantly. You nuzzled against my chest and smiled up at me. I never wanted to see that smile go away so I tried to be there as often as I could, and promised myself that I would tell you the truth later on. At first I planned to tell you when you turned seven since your parents started your lessons and you were beginning to learn about magical creatures. Then," The whimsical look broke into pieces as grief slammed into his eyes. "Your parents were gone and you were so sad and in so much pain. More pain than any boy your age should have gone through. I didn't want to add more weight to the overwhelming burden you were already carrying. When Dumbledore gave me the job to teach at Hogwarts, I promised myself no more games. I would finally tell you the truth."

"So why didn't you?" Maybe they didn't get to see as often as they should have, but all Remus had to do was send him a summons to his office and Harry would be there in an instant.

"Because I was a coward. Because after bearing this-this-" Remus struggled to find the right word. "condition for over thirty years, I still haven't gotten used to the look of pure fear and disgust people wore when they figured it out. And I knew, once I told you the truth, you wouldn't look at me like I was your uncle. You'd look at me like I-like I was a monster." He finished in a murmur, looking even more tired than he did a minute ago.

Seeing that unmistakable look of despair and defeat dimmed bits of Harry's anger. He thought back to how Remus changed into a werewolf and nearly tore Sirius apart. Then, before that, the distrustful glances Ron kept shooting him as he tended to his leg. The way Hermione fidgeted around him, as if one wrong step would have her gutted. Most of all Harry thought about how the vicious creature he read so much about at the library barely resembled the man sitting across from him.

"No," Harry corrected. Remus looked up. "Not a monster. A liar, yes, but not a monster."

A soft smile touched his face but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "I'm so sorry I kept the truth away from you for so long, pup. I suppose as much as I wanted to protect you, I also wanted to protect myself from the inevitable. Now that you know the truth, all I can ask is that you don't hate me. At least not too much."

Harry stared at him, remembering the sharp claws and teeth that could easily tear through flesh and also how gentle those hands were as he held Harry close when he'd read him a bedtime story, stroke his head whenever he needed comfort or ruffle his hair when he accomplished a goal. "It's gonna be a long while before I can trust you again, Remus."

He nodded, as if he didn't expect anything less.

"But I don't hate you," Harry told him. Stunned, Remus looked up at him, his mouth gape. Harry smiled gently at him. "I could never hate you."

Remus sucked in a sharp breath. He then rose from his chair and leaned over, pulling Harry into a tight hug, kissing him on the crown of his head. "I love you, pup."

"I love you, too, Moony." When he was released from the hug, another question popped into his head. "Wait, what about Sirius? Since Pettigrew confessed to everything, does that mean Sirius is free?"

"Well, there are still a few legal matters that need to be dealt with. Some people from the Ministry don't fully believe Peter's confession." Remus looked almost as annoyed by the fact as Harry was. His frown did soon change into a small smile. "But, yes, for the most part Sirius is a free man."

"That's-" Good. Amazing. Unbelievable. "Brilliant."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

Harry blinked, surprised, and looked over at the door. Sirius stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark sweater and trousers he must have borrowed from Remus. In the three days Harry was resting, he looked a great deal better than how he did before. Though there were still dark circles under his eyes, his face looked refreshed, cheeks a healthy flush, hair combed and cut, touching his shoulders. He wore a look on his face Harry never saw before: anxious-and not the good kind-that built and built the longer he stared at Harry.

"Sorry for the intrusion." he said.

"No need to apologize," Remus said. "I actually need to discuss something with Dumbledore."

He ruffled Harry's hair, grabbed the empty tea-kettle and his book, and left. Sirius approached the bed and glanced between it and the chair, unsure where to sit. He finally went for the bed, sitting close but not too close.

Harry would have been amazed at the fact that the suave and confident Sirius Black was an anxious mess if he wasn't one himself. Which was horrible now that he thought about it. Sirius was one of the few people in the world Harry never felt nervous around. It shouldn't be that way now that the truth was out, but considering the six years apart and spending so much time going back and forth between believing Sirius was guilty to him possibly not, it was hard to find their footing.

"So," Sirius finally broke the painfully-long silence that dragged on for what felt like an hour. "Slytherin, huh?"

Feeling his brows cease, Harry looked up into Sirius's questioning eyes and nodded.

Sirius nodded back. "I see." he said. "Was the sorting rigged?"

 _What?_  It was the first thought that popped into Harry's mind as the question sank in, but when he opened his mouth to say it, what came out instead was a chuckle. One which soon grew into another as Sirius fired another question.

"Was the hat already drunk? Decided to celebrate the welcoming feast early?"

Only Sirius was crazy enough to think that Harry's sorting was done because of a drunken hat. As crazy as the thought was, it was certainly the most creative excuse he had heard, making him laugh even harder.

"No." he managed to say in between chuckles.

" _Aha!_ " Sirius said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Then you were the one drunk off your rocker!" He tried to look serious but his faux-somber mask was cracking under the pressure of his badly-suppressed laughter. "And once the hat saw that, it took advantage of you and threw you into the slimy snake pit."

" _No!_ " Harry cried, practically choking on his laughter.

Sirius dissolved into rounds of laughter, which made Harry laugh harder. For a few minutes they tried to keep themselves up, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt.

It felt so good to laugh, especially after the night they had, but as much as Harry wanted it to, he knew couldn't last forever. They were long overdue for a talk.

It took a few minutes to finally get himself together, his stomach aching. He sighed, took in a deep breath, and looked up at Sirius. "What exactly happened on Halloween night?"

All traces of humor were immediately wiped from his face. Even though it was a question that was bound to be asked, he didn't look thrilled to be answering it. In fact, given the pain-struck expression that crossed his face, he looked like he'd rather be asked to do anything else. "Your parents," He sighed heavily and wiped a hand over his weary face. "They-they knew something bad was happening. A war was brewing, kiddo, and you were smacked right in the middle of it."

"A war?" Harry echoed, stunned. He tried to think back to the days before Halloween for any signs that something bad was about to come: tense conversations between his parents, strained smiles plastered on. His dad had started asking him to go up to his room more whenever he really needed to talk to Mum. Back then, though, he dismissed it as boring grown-up talk. Other than that, nothing. Clearly his parents tried to shield him from the truth for as long as possible. "Why? How do I fit into it?"

"Well-the Dark Lord, Harry, his powers were growing as well as his follower count. He was becoming too powerful for the Ministry to handle, and panic was starting to spread throughout the wizarding world. A prophecy was made-and…well, I'll tell you the details later on. My head is pretty fuzzy at the moment. Point being, your parents planned to go into hiding. They already warded the house so you were mostly hidden from sight, and they planned on leaving the next day."

"But…" Harry supplied.

"But," Sirius continued. "Two or three days before they were ready to leave, I talked to your dad. I was picked as the oathkeeper, and, as much as an honor it was, I thought it was too obvious. I was James's best friend. Anyone with half a brain would be able to figure that out. So I told your dad that it should be Peter. No one would ever suspect it. At the time, I thought I was brilliant." He scoffed, his face mangled in rage and regret. "If I could go back in time and meet my past-self, I'd punch him in the face."

"Then what happened?" Harry asked gently, even though he already had a good idea.

"Halloween night-call it gut-instinct or canine senses-but something was off. I couldn't explain it but I just knew. I stopped by Peter's place and the place reeked of Dark Magic. I…I found my brother…Regulus…"

Harry only knew of the man based on the few family pictures Sirius kept in his house. Sirius barely talked about his family, and when he did the words that came out were not kind.

"He…he…" Sirius swallowed. "He-in the politest way I can say-was gutted like a fish. He was barely alive-" A dry, shallow gasp rocked his body. He grasped onto the blanket like it was an anchor that could keep him steady. "Choking on his own blood. He only had enough time to tell me this: 'The Dark Lord gained a new pet.  _A rat_.'" The venom in his voice was so thick, so deadly, Harry flinched.

"I ran straight to your house, praying with everything I had that he was wrong, that I wasn't too late. The first thing I saw was your dad." Sirius was cut off by a sound that rattled his chest, a dry sob he tried to suppress by biting down on his fist, his eyes swelling with tears. "Kiddo, what I saw-I could have thrown up right then and there. I remember stumbling up to your room, hoping you were there, and came across a bloodbath. Your mum was lying in the middle of it and you were long gone. I went out of my mind in rage, grief, pain. Your dad was killed, your mum was killed, and you were gone. All I could do was hope was that you were taken somewhere safe. That, and that Peter was alive because I planned to kill the rat. With every dark hex I knew."

"Severus found me," Harry said quietly. "He came to the house before you did and took me back to Malfoy Manor."

Sirius slowly nodded his head. "I figured as much. As much as a nauseating, excruciating bastard he can be, Snivellus does care about you, so I'll give him that."

"What happened?" Harry asked. "After that?"

"I managed to track Peter down. I saw the dark mark on his arm. The stupid idiot didn't even bother to hide it. Before I could reach for my wand, he hit me with a spell. I almost thought he missed-he was always rubbish with spells-but the next thing I knew I was laughing. I was laughing so hard, I could feel my insides twisting. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. Then Peter cut his finger and fired a hex that hit the entire neighborhood. By the time the smoke cleared, I saw the rat running away. I wanted to go after him. I wanted to end him. All I could at the time though was try to keep my insides from bursting out and come up with a plan. I knew Aurors were coming. I also knew how bad it looked. Only three people knew about the switch and one was already dead while the other ran away. I knew even if I screamed the truth at the top of my lungs and swore on my magic, they wouldn't believe me. So I ran. I ran before I could get caught. Laughing my guts out, I zapped back home. I managed to find a counterjinx to the spell, then packed a bag and some money, and ran."

Harry could only stare at him in stunned silence.

"You know what's funny? Before he fired his wand, Pettigrew said to me I was as much to blame as he was. And the real kicker is he was right."

Harry leaned forward and touched his arm. Sirius slowly brought his head over to him, his eyes filled with so much pain it hurt to look into them. Harry forced himself to endure it. "Sirius, you didn't betray Mum and Dad. You weren't the one who killed them."

"I might as well have. I was the one who convinced your dad to switch oathkeepers. I was the one who thought Peter could be trusted and was the perfect choice," Sirius said. "And because of that, my brother ended up dead, your parents were killed, the world thought I was a traitor and a coward, I lost Remus, and I lost you too."

"You didn't lose Remus." Harry told him. "When Dumbledore and the Aurors came to the Manor, he refused to believe what they were saying about you. I don't think he ever lost hope."

That bit of information eased some of his pain. "What about you?"

"I-well-for the longest time I did believe it. And hated you because of it." The pain resurfaced in his eyes. "Till you sent me Scruffy and I listened to your message. More than once."

"You…you kept Scruffy?" Sirius stared at him, incredulous.

Harry nodded. "And the firebolt."

Tears filled his eyes but not a single one fell.

"After that, I wasn't fully convinced. Even though the evidence was clear, a part of me refused to believe it."

Sirius pulled him into his chest and hugged him tight. Harry returned the hug fiercely. "You were one of the few things that kept me grounded over the years. I missed you, kiddo. More than you'll ever know."

"I missed you, too." Harry didn't realize how true those words were until they slipped out from his mouth. He held Sirius for a moment longer, and then broke the hug as he heard footsteps entering the room.

Draco stood in the doorway, everything from his body language screaming tense from his clenched fists that were held to his sides, the tight lock of his jaw, and the narrowed-slit eyes that watched Harry intently.

Sirius noticed the tension and quickly slipped out of the room, giving them privacy. Draco didn't move an inch.

Harry could only imagine the rants that awaited him consisting of remarks about his recklessness and stupidity, complaints about ruined hair and expensive clothes marked with horrible stains that were impossible to get out, and, of course, more remarks about his stupidity and how it nearly got them killed. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but in a flash Draco sprinted across the room and jumped onto the bed, grasping onto his face.

Warm, soft lips crashed onto his, stealing Harry's breath before it was released.

To call it a kiss would be wrong. It wasn't a gentle meeting and parting, but a full-on attack. Lips pressed so hard together, they stung. Tongue darting wildly, so roughly, it was brutal. It was as if Draco unleashed every ounce of his anger and distress into their joint lips, making the kiss not a kiss but a bruising, violent storm that was tearing Harry apart.

Just as sudden as it began, it ended abruptly. Once Harry was released, he struggled to take in gulps of much-needed air for his lungs, but was captured once again by a pair of hands that grasped onto his face.

"Never  _EVER_ do that to me again!" Draco demanded. The words no softer than a murmur but the intensity behind it as powerful as a scream. "Do you understand?"

Harry didn't answer, not right away. His mind was still dazed from what just happened. Draco didn't accept that, tightening his hold on him.

" _Never again!_ " he ordered.

Those eyes burnt as bright as the sun, silver orbs casting his mind into a daze, the intensity behind them threatening to consume him. Harry wouldn't look away even if he wanted to. He nodded weakly.

Draco exhaled sharply, releasing only a fraction of the tension. He pulled Harry into a tight hug, nearly cracking his spine and ribs. As uncomfortable as it was, Harry didn't pull away. He adjusted himself and returned the hug fiercely, recalling how Draco fallen under the Dementors' spell, collapsing beside him.

"I thought-" Draco began.

"I know." Harry finished.

Draco shuddered and tightened his hold.

"I'm not leaving you," Harry vowed. "I promise."

Draco buried his face in the nape of Harry's neck. Harry rested his chin on top of Draco's hair.

"Mine." Draco murmured.

"Mine." Harry repeated.

Unbeknownst to the boys, someone watched them from the doorway after they've broken apart, puzzled by the grip they had on each other.

Sirius turned over to Remus, questions swirling in his eyes. "Moony?"

Remus smiled gently, shaking his head, and took Sirius's arm.

"But-"

Remus was already leading him away, the left corner of his mouth rose slightly, brows arched suspiciously as he looked over once more at the boys that were oblivious to everything else happening outside their private bubble.


	25. New Summer, New Beginning

Harry noticed a pattern in his school. Each year, he made a promise to himself to do well, have fun with friends, and stay out of trouble. And each time, usually towards the end of the year, he found himself barely escaping from the dangerous trap he was lured into. First year, it was a ploy set by Voldemort, using a teacher as his crutch. Second year, Ginny was the puppet he stringed along, as well as the basilisk, to wreak havoc on the school. Third year, while Voldemort himself didn't attack him directly, a member (or minion he should say) from his inner circle did cause quite a mess.

According to Remus, two good things came out of that miserable night: Sirius's name was cleared, first and foremost, although Dumbledore did mention that not everyone from the Ministry believed his innocence. Second, because Harry saved Pettigrew from death, he was owed a life-debt.

Remus believed it was a good thing, one that would benefit him in the future. Maybe he was right, but Harry refused to see it that way, wanting nothing to do with the rodent. Pettigrew was Dad's friend as well as Mum's. He was Sirius's friend. They trusted him but, thanks to his cowardice, he killed them all.

Well, maybe he didn't actually draw his wand and cast the killing curse himself but he sold his parents out to Voldemort. He made the world-including Harry-believe that Sirius was the traitor.

Harry's heart went out to poor Ron; he was beyond shocked and horrified to find out that his pet rat was actually a man. One who often slept in the bed with him, rested on his lap, and crawled up his shirt when he was being fussy. As soon as Ron was released from the hospital wing, he took five straight showers, using almost all the soap that was stocked in the bathroom. Then sanitized every inch of the room, had all his clothes washed and re-washed, determined to remove every inch of Pettigrew.

"It's like I can still feel him crawling on my skin." he said to Harry days later at lunch. Ron scratched his arms that were already bright red. "I'll never be able to look at rats the same way again."

Harry understood the feeling.

The rest of the school year went off without a hitch. Dumbledore decided to cancel final exams to everyone's joy, even Hermione's surprisingly. And for the first time, in over two years, Gryffindor beat out Slytherin for the House Cup, resulting in excited cheers from the lions and sullen scowls from the snakes as changes were made to the decor.

Draco wore the sullenest scowl, which went perfectly with the ice-cold glare in his eyes as he looked over at the Gryffindors. Several of them climbed onto the table and danced in celebration of their victory, not caring who was watching. Seamus was among the dancers, breaking into a victorious Irish step. "It's only because the insect and weasel were involved in the stupid rescue mission. And the fact Lupin keeps giving them extra bloody points."

Harry looked over at the table in the front where the teachers were gathered and felt a pang hitting his chest as he noticed Remus's empty chair.

Shortly after he was released from the hospital, Harry went to his quarters to talk more and was shocked to find him packing.

"You're leaving." he croaked.

Remus packed the last set of his books into his suitcase and turned over to Harry, offering him a small smile. "To shorten an incredibly long story," he said. "A few rumors have been floating around the school about my situation. It won't be long before it reaches the ears of concerned parents, then the Ministry."

"But Dumbledore-" Remus cut him off with another smile.

"Has already taken a great risk in hiring me."

"But-"

"It's alright, pup. I'm honestly used to it by now. Not to worry. We shall see each other again soon. I'm sure of it."

He handed Harry back the map as a farewell gift and took his leave. He assured him he would have plenty to keep him busy: helping Sirius get back on his feet, helping Sirius fix up his house, trying to keep Sirius from trouble since it was drawn to the man like a magnet and it was only a matter of time before he got a firecall or an owled-letter urging him to come home because of a small, tiny incident.

Thinking about Remus made Harry think of Sirius, and how, while his reappearance made things good, it also made things difficult.

The Ministry, or at least the bigot half, still believed that Sirius was under Voldemort's influence and wanted him to be sent to Azkaban along with Pettigrew. To settle things once and for all, Minister Fudge arranged a trial on the day right after the boys were released from school, so Harry could attend along with the Malfoys. With his system laced with Veritaserum, Sirius repeated the truth in a calm, steady voice that never wavered. That Pettigrew was chosen as the new oathkeeper since he was a less obvious choice, then sold out James and Lily, which led to their deaths. Coming to Pettigrew's house and discovering his close-to-dead brother who warned him of the rodent's treachery, then going to the Godric Hollow cottage where he saw for himself the result of that treachery. Confronting Pettigrew, who confessed his crimes, and running after the rodent's disappearance because he knew how bad it looked. Knew he'd be thrown into prison.

He wanted to and clear his name and make the truth known.

"Why not then come forward after you discovered Pettigrew was alive? Why not contact us?" one member asked, an unattractive, plump woman clad in pink from head to toe.

Sirius looked like he was ready to bite her, either with his teeth or a nasty comment that would seal his fate. Growling, he took in a deep breath and said, "Let's just say I had a very strong feeling before that I could even finish the sentence, I'd already be locked away in a pretty, little cell."

A scowl curled the woman's lips, but Minister Fudge cut her off before she got a word out.

After what felt-like long hours of hushed whispers between members and distrustful glances aimed at Sirius, the jury found him not guilty on all charges, issuing that all accounts under his name be unfrozen and restored, property returned to him, and so forth. By the grin on his face, Harry knew Sirius was pleased. However he discovered, as Minister Fudge led him, Sirius, and the Malfoys into his office, that wasn't quite enough for him.

"I want full custody of Harry!" he demanded.

Harry was glad he declined the bottled water Minister's assistant offered him otherwise he would have spat it out. His jaw, though, nearly dropped to the floor.

Draco was on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair against the door as he snarled, "Over my dead body!"

 _Dear Merlin_ , Harry groaned.

Lucius snapped his fingers and Draco's fallen chair came back to its' proper place. He forced his son back down to his seat as Narcissa rose from hers, walking over to Sirius who was standing in front of Minister's desk, keeping a good amount of distance between them. Her face appeared neutral, even calm, but Harry lived with them long enough to know when she was analyzing an opponent (pests as she distastefully called them) and their weaknesses. Judging by the slight lift of her lip that was too faint, too chilled for a normal smile, she spotted plenty in her cousin.

"And what makes you think I'd allow it?" she asked.

Sirius scowled at her. "How about the fact I missed six years of Harry's life because a spineless rodent framed me? How about the fact I'm his godfather and I want him back in my life? Or how about the fact I'd sooner trust Snape not to strangle me in my sleep than letting him stay under your roof and you poisoning his mind, you spoiled, nefarious ice-queen bitc-"

"You will hold your tongue, Black," Uncle spat, his eyes cold as winter's night. "While it's still attached."

Just as animosity between Sirius and Severus hadn't disappeared, neither had the one he had with the Malfoys.

Groaning, Harry slumped lower in his seat. This was just as bad as the meeting that happened over the summer when they were forced to cut their vacation short due to Minister's Fudge unexpected visit. Correction, this was even worse. Sirius had a tongue that was just as sharp as Narcissa's, but where she was precise with hers, he was reckless with his, which led to problems.

Much like now.

Minister Fudge banged his gravel in a feeble attempt to break the tension. "Despite Mr. Black's choice of words, I do believe his request is not an outrageous one, Mrs. Malfoy. It could even-"

"Minister Fudge, your opinion on the matter holds the same irrelevant value then as they do now," Fudge flinched as if he were slapped. Narcissa didn't spare him a glance, focusing her cool gaze on Sirius, who returned it with an icy glare of his own. "Allow me to rephrase the question. What makes you think I'd allow you full custody?"

Sirius was seething, face flushed, clenched fists held by his sides. Harry had a strong guess as to what he wished he could swing one of those fists at. Through clenched teeth, he said "James picked me to care for Harry if anything should happen to them-"

"Just as Lily picked me for the very same reason," she reminded with a biting smile. "Suffice to say, I've done a fine job. You can ask the court, Severus, even Mr. Lupin. Harry has been well-protected and well cared for."

Draco dipped his head in a nod, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"However," she continued. "While full custody is out of the question, a summer visit is reasonable. Perhaps even for the whole summer."

Harry knew for sure that his jaw hit the ground-and saw he wasn't the only one. Draco, Sirius, even the Minister stared at her with their jaws slacked. Only Lucius managed to keep his jaw locked, but even he couldn't hide his shock, both arched brows touching his hairline.

"I-I-I-" Sirius stammered. "I beg your pardon."

"A summer visitation for the entire summer." she repeated, speaking slowly. "This summer Draco shall be attending a special retreat in France."

Draco's jaw nearly went right through the floor.

"And I'd hate for Harry to be lonely at the Manor. Besides," she added. "A summer apart will do the boys some good."

" _What?!_ " Draco shrieked, oblivious to the warning glare Uncle shot him as he was back on his feet. Harry was too stunned to speak. He was tempted to punch his own arm to make sure he wasn't caught in some strange dream.

As it turned out, Aunt Cissa's kind gesture did come with conditions. First and foremost, she requested that Sirius be forced to seek therapy at St. Mungo's for whatever trauma six years on the run might have brought on. At least three times a week, an actual face-to-face conversation with a psychiatrist. Second was that Harry would spend the weekends at Severus's, arriving Friday night and leaving at the same time on Sunday since she and Uncle were going to France with Draco, and she wanted to make sure Harry's wits were still intact. Third, she expected a letter from Harry twice a week. If not, then she'd send for him immediately.

"Anything else you wish to add,  _dear cousin_?" Sirius spat.

Aunt Cissa smiled with a chilled edge to her thin lips. "Yes. Keep up that attitude and I'll happily reduce the visitation to a week."

" _A week?!_ " Sirius repeated.

"Would you rather I make it a weekend?"

Sirius looked like there were hundreds of things he'd rather say instead, and judging by the anger flashing in his eyes and the tightness of his fists, they were colorful words.

"Of course, it's all up to Harry," The ice on her face faded away as she looked over her shoulder and gave Harry a warm smile. "Would you mind staying with Sirius, darling? At least for the summer?"

"At least?" Sirius parroted.

The words flew over Narcissa's head.

Heat burnt Harry's cheeks as five pairs of eyes, including Minister Fudge's, flickered over to him. He resisted the great urge to melt into the ground. Or make himself disappear.

"Darling?" He blinked, brought back to the present by his aunt's voice.

"I wouldn't mind it." he answered truthfully.

Sirius grinned as if he won the World Quidditch Cup.

Uncle Lucius gave a curt nod while the corner of Narcissa's lips rose.

Draco backed away from Harry as if he was punched, jaw dropped, face flushed.

Then moved over to the empty chair next to him, leaving a wide gap between them.

Draco didn't speak to Harry for the rest of the day. Turning his head the other direction as the adults, mostly Sirius and Narcissa, went over the summer arrangements. Sitting at the opposite side of the table instead of his customary seat next to Harry when Uncle Lucius took them out for lunch, keeping as far away from him as he could. The tense silence continued on for days. Draco bluntly ignored Harry whenever he attempted to talk to him, pretending not to hear or leaving the room altogether. While they still slept in the same room, Draco strictly kept to his side, turning his back to Harry.

More than once Harry wanted to hex him-or give him a good punch in the face for being such a prat. It was just one summer. Draco was acting like Harry was going away forever. Besides he needed this. Sirius did too. This was a good chance for them to get to know each other again. Only Draco was being a complete jerk about it as if Harry wronged him, which was completely infuriating.

Also, as infuriating as it was, the cold shoulder hurt him as well.

"Are you seriously not going to talk to me?" Harry demanded during his last day at the manor. He could hear the floo roaring, and knew Sirius had arrived.

Draco lounged at the window seat, looking out the backyard, arms stubbornly crossed.

Growling, Harry packed a small collection of his favorite books into his duffle bag and zipped it up, swinging it onto his shoulder. "Fine, you prat. Be a big baby. See you in September."

Curses shot through his mind as he headed towards the door. He was halfway through the room before he heard his name. A soft "Harry," that cut through his thoughts like a knife, bringing his steps to a halt.

He heard footsteps behind him before he felt Draco's arms wrap around his shoulders. Harry was tempted to return the gesture with the same coldness he had been receiving for the past few days. He should shrug off Draco's touch, knock him away. Instead, his bag slid onto the floor, either by low dip of Harry's shrug or Draco pushing it away, and he leaned into Draco.

It was practically alarming how a simple touch dissolved his anger. It shouldn't be fair. It shouldn't be allowed. Yet Harry still leaned into him.

"You can be a real prat, you know that right?" he muttered.

Draco made a small sound that was like a hum as he nuzzled into his shoulder. "I don't like you being away from me."

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Draco, it's just for the summer. We've been apart before. Remember the summer before second year? I left for Moscow and came right back."

"Still miserable." he murmured.

Harry couldn't say that was a lie concerning the countless letters he received from Draco asking him when he was coming back. Actually, now that he thought about it, Draco wasn't the only one who suffered that summer. If there was someone who was just as eager for Harry's return, it was Uncle Lucius; the man had written _tons_  of letters expressing his annoyance of having to deal with Draco's whining, moping, and pacing. "You managed."

"Barely."

Rolling his eyes again, Harry pushed Draco away and looked up at him. "I'm not the only one going away, remember? You're going to France, one of your favorite countries in the world."

"Yes," Draco scoffed with an eye roll. "To some mysterious retreat for only Merlin knows what."

Harry's brows creased. "Aunt Cissa didn't tell you why you're going?"

Another scoff delivered with another eye roll. " _To a place that will help me learn more about myself. Unlock a side I never knew existed_. I swear trying to get a straight answer from her is like trying to wrangle one out of the old goat."

"With less lemon drops."

"True, thank Merlin."

"Boys," Uncle Lucius called. "Come down."

Harry picked up his bag and Draco was right by his side as they headed downstairs. The adults were gathered in the parlor room, Sirius set to one side, his aunt and uncle at the other. Their faces were set into hard, irritated masks that were quickly peeled off as the boys entered the room.

Sirius grinned as he came over to hug Harry, ruffling his hair. "Hey, kiddo. You ready for some fun?"

"You bet."

Narcissa took one step forward, a simple move that caused Sirius's grin to fall into a scowl as he looked at her. "I suppose I should thank you for allowing the visitation."

"Think nothing of it."

"I said  _suppose_ ," Sirius smirked. "And _should_. Doesn't mean  _will_."

Oh brother. Harry bit down a groan. He was hoping to avoid tension when Sirius came for him. Clearly, the man had other ideas.

Narcissa returned her cousin's smirk with a thin-lipped, sharp smile. "Do hope you value your time with Harry, Sirius, and recognize the great generosity behind it. I doubt the same will be offered a second time."

Sirius bristled at the words. Harry quickly jumped in before things went from tense to downright ugly. "We better go."

Sirius jerked his head curtly as if being in the Manor was making his skin crawl.

"I don't need to remind you to mind yourself, do I?" Lucius said as Harry approached them. He shook his head, and a faint smile touched his uncle's mouth. "Good. I'd hate to see seven years of potential get corrupted by Black's idiocy."

"I'm right here!" Sirius snapped. Uncle pretended not to hear.

"As much as you are a Potter, you are also a Malfoy. Every choice and action you make reflects not only on you, but the family as a whole. You be sure to remember that."

"Yes uncle."

Narcissa cupped Harry's face. "I was not lying about the letters," she reminded. "Two a week or I'm taking you back. Then Sirius can spend the remaining summer with you through the firecall."

Behind Harry, Sirius muttered something so low, he couldn't hear it.

"I promise." he told her.

His aunt smiled and kissed his forehead.

When it was Draco's turn, the blond pulled Harry into a tight hug that was returned fiercely. Harry shivered as Draco's cool breath brushed against his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

"I'll miss you." Draco murmured.

"I'll miss you too." Harry said. "But remember, it's only for the summer. It'll be over before you know it."

"Still don't like it."

"Boys," Narcissa said. "It's time to go."

Draco refused to part so easily, at least not without making an impression. He pulled Harry close to him, buried his face in Harry's neck, and pressed a swift, sharp bite right there.

Harry's skin was stinging. He nearly jumped as he felt the bite, then was pierced with a strange feeling-longing, sadness?- that stabbed his chest as they separated.

"I'll see you soon." Harry whispered.

Draco's eyes weren't burning silver but they were filled with a sharp intensity that made Harry feel exposed, practically naked, as he nodded his head.

He took a step back. Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder and directed him to the fireplace, where the two disappeared into the green flames.

* * *

Grimmauld place was just as Harry remembered. Beautiful and spacious like the Manor, but where the Manor resembled a castle, the Grimmauld place was almost like an apartment building that could house dozens of tenants when actually it occupied only one family, then soon only one man. Another difference between the two was the structure. Grimmauld place, as beautiful as it was, was gloomy in a sorts thanks to the Gothic details added to the house and the lack of brightness. However, the big difference between then and now was the fact Remus was the first face Harry saw as they walked into the living room.

"Hello pup." he greeted with a warm smile.

"Remus!" Harry dropped his bag and went over to hug him. "I can't believe it."

"Well, I did say that we would see each other again soon."

Harry stepped back. "I didn't think it would be that soon. What are you doing here?"

Light red colored Remus's cheeks. "We-um-you. Funny story, actually-"

"I believe, kiddo," Sirius said. "I can explain this in three easy steps."

With a grin on his face, he strutted over to Remus, dipped him low, and planted a deep, rough kiss that had Harry, Kreacher the house-elf, and almost every portrait in the room gawking with slack jaws and widened eyes.

After what felt like an hour, Sirius released Remus. The poor man was flustered; face red as a tomato, attempting to straighten himself up while Sirius wore a smirk of someone too proud of himself.

"That…we- _Sirius!_ " Remus growled.

"You know me, Moony," he shrugged. "I've always been more of a show than tell type of guy."

Remus glared at him.

Harry finally retrieved his slacked jaw. "So you two are together?"

"No!" Remus cried at the same time Sirius said "Yes!"

Shooting Sirius another glare, Remus said, "We're still trying to figure out where we stand. After all, it has been awhile." The last bit of words were aimed at Sirius, sharpened with a bite.

"Which is Remus-code for continuing right where we left off."

"Sirius!"

"What?" He tried (and failed) to keep an innocent face. "Its better we let it all out in the open. Tear the bandage off and all that jazz. Besides, Moony, Harry's going to wonder why our room is always locked and silent."

" _Sirius!_ "

"I'm just gonna…" Harry grabbed his bag and followed Kreacher upstairs.

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius!" He heard Remus say. "I thought we agreed that I'd do the talking."

" _You_  agreed that you'd do the talking," Sirius corrected. "I just decided to save everyone the trouble and give the Cliff notes version."

Harry couldn't hear what Remus said after that, but he did hear Sirus's response.

"Moony, as much as I love you, you do tend to go overboard. And practically take forever to explain things. I can only imagine how your talk on the birds and bees went with kiddo."

"I'll have you know that it was very informative."

Too informative. Far-too heavily, mortifyingly-detailed informative, lasting almost an entire day with binders filled with notes and pictures and at some points dolls. Actual dolls.

It was a bit of an adjustment settling in. It was surprising to step into his old room, even more so that it was adjusted from being a room fit for a child to one for a teenager, with his old toys being replaced with books and records and some games. Harry only imagined how much time Sirius put in, making the room perfect for him, struggling to figure out what he may or may not like. However, despite the changes and the unexpected PDA that greeted him on his first night, Harry still had fun.

Sirius, despite his prestigious family name and fancy house, was the personified definition of easy-going. Anti-formalities and rule-breaking were part of his motto. For dinner, instead of having Kreacher whip up something in the kitchen, Sirius ordered out: Chinese take-out, double bacon cheeseburgers and loads of fries, stacks of pizza with crazy combinations, and a triple-layer, triple-chocolate cake to celebrate Harry's belated birthday. One of many to make up for the last six years.

He encouraged all-day pajama-day unless there was somewhere else they had to be. Was big on feasting on leftovers, mashing them up together, and then pigging out more. Blared loud, wild rock 'n' roll music, much to Kreacher's and even Remus's chagrin, in every room of the house till it felt like they were in a constant earthquake. It was how Harry often woke up in the morning.

Harry's days at the Grimmauld place soon fell into routine. They'd meet at the one of the less fancy dining rooms to have breakfast, sometimes prepared by Remus, most times prepared by Kreacher who begged Sirius to give him something to do. After breakfast, Sirius left for St. Mungo's, murmuring complaints under his breath about his quack of a shrink. During the time he was gone, Harry would read in the library, work a bit on his homework, sometimes ask Remus more questions about being a werewolf, but most times do research on the winged-creature from Aunt Cissa's mysterious book. When Sirius did come back, he'd carry out whatever plan of adventure he had for the day. Like taking them to Romania, where Harry met one of Ron's older brothers, Charlie, to watch actual dragons fly. Racing up the steps of the Great Wall of China, a race which ended with Remus coming out as the unexpected winner, a panting Harry in second place, and Sirius dead last (he collapsed halfway through). Visiting almost every haunted house in New Orleans, where Sirius scared the locals and the tourists even more by adding a magical dab to the theatrics.

"Hope you got your swim-trunks, Kiddo," Sirius grinned, popping back into the living room after another therapy session. "Because we're going to the beach."

Harry put away the letter he was working on for Draco and raised a surprised brow. "The beach?" It seemed like such a normal thing to do after all the places and sights they've visited.

Sirius's eyes twinkled playfully. "Did I mention that we were beaching in…Hawaii?"

"Sirius, for goodness's sake," Remus said. "You're finally home after six years of hopping from one place to the next. Don't you want to rest?"

"I'll rest when I'm dead." At the deadpan expression planted on Remus's face, Sirius smiled charmingly. "The difference between then and now is the fact I no longer have to constantly look over my shoulder. Or worry about people recognizing me and alerting the Ministry. Plus, I plan to give my kiddo," He pulled Harry against him and gave him a noogie. "the best summer of his life."

"Well, you're definitely succeeding." Harry replied with a smile.

Sirius's smile broadened to a grin.

The beach day was everything Harry expected it to be and more. They spent most of the time enjoying the beautiful, blue ocean, swimming, splashing each other, trying their hand (or in this case foot) in surfing that often resulted in them tumbling off the board before the waves rose. Once their skins were pruned like raisins, they took their fun back to shore. Remus decided to lounge underneath the sun while Harry and Sirius had a one-on-one volley ball match.

It took a few minutes to explain the game to Sirius, emphasizing the rule of zero-use of magic, but after a few times he got into the game. He definitely had himself a laugh when one of his serves shot straight up in the air, knocking into a seagull that had been flying over their heads.

"Aww, look at that."

Harry blinked and turned his head over to the direction where Sirius's attention was focused on. It looked like sun-bathing for Remus turned into a sun-napping. The man was dead to the world; head tilted back, loud snores booming from his agape mouth.

"Well," Harry said after a moment. "He definitely looks peaceful."

"That he does." A wicked gleam sparked in Sirius's eyes as he looked back at Harry. "Let's bury him."

Oh dear Merlin. "No," he said with a laugh.

"And why not?"

"For one he'll kill you."

"Then I'll die a satisfied man." Sirius thought for a moment. "Well maybe not completely satisfied but close enough."

Times like this reminded Harry just how wacky the man could be. He should have reminded Sirius the consequences of setting off an enraged werewolf, but it would be cruel to crush the rare spark gleaming in Sirius's eyes. Also, the more Harry thought about it, the more idea appealed to him.

Biting his lip to hold in chuckles, he followed Sirius quietly over to Remus. They had to use their magic to dig the perfect hole that wasn't too shallow or too deep. They carefully carried Remus over from his lounge chair to the hole. Once he was in, they packed up the hole with pounds of sand, filling and filling it until Remus's head was only visible body part sticking out from the sand.

"And now," Sirius grinned. "for the finishing touch."

He grabbed a hermit crab that had been crawling along and placed the creature right in front of Remus.

"He's so gonna kill you." Harry snickered.

"Then I shall die a happy man."

Once they were done, they took a few steps back and shared a smile. Winking at Harry, Sirius cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, " _It's a tidal wave!_ "

"What?" Remus's head jerked as he awakened, his eyes widening as they took in his new position.

The crab leaped into his opened mouth, and that was all it took for Harry and Sirius to collapse on the ground, nearly laughing their guts out.

As for Remus, judging by the way his head was fervently whipping back and forth, he was locked in a tight battle with the crab that was clearly trying to make the man's mouth its' new home. With a loud, strangled grunt, Remus finally spat the crab out and tilted his head back.

" _SIRIUS!_ "

The scream was practically a crescendo throughout the place, causing a flock of birds to disperse, making Sirius and Harry laugh harder.

Just as Harry predicted, Remus was not happy. While he didn't kill Sirius right on the spot as soon as he was freed, he did give the man a frightening, low growl that promised a slow, painful demise later on before walking off to the bathroom to clean himself up.

They waited for him at the beach's burger shack.

"Remus is gonna kill you," Harry said. "And he's gonna use that crab to do it."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "He always says it but never does it. Can't say I blame him. After all, it would be a shame to take this," He gestured towards his face. "beauty outta the world."

Harry rolled his eyes, but before he could tell Sirius more, their order had arrived, brought to them by a young waitress with amazing balance. Without breaking a sweat, she placed a platter of cheeseburgers with a large basket of fries, another platter of chicken kabobs, two salads and three pineapple pina-coladas.

"If you need anything else, just call." she said.

Not that her arms were free, Harry was able to get a better look. She was younger than he though, around his age. She was definitely pretty with her dark-caramel skin glowing from the sun, a yellow flower tucked into wavy black hair following the wind's direction, and deep-set hazel eyes. Her attractiveness increased tenfold as he took in her clothes: a white tube-top that showed her toned belly and a long, sarong skirt.

Realizing he was still staring, Harry murmured, "Will-will do." Warmth crawled into his cheeks like a snake.

The girl gave him a slow, feline smile that increased the temperature of his burning face and left them with an extra swing in her hips, looking back once to send Harry a wink.

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Way a go, kiddo. I approve. Greatly approve."

"That-she-I wasn't-"

"No need to worry. You're the son of one of the most infamous heartbreakers ever to grace Hogwarts' halls. It's bound for the torch to be passed along."

There was no torch. Nothing to pass. "That's not-I mean she is pretty."

"And clearly wants you," Sirius teased. "I say go for it. It's summertime. You deserve to have some fun."

"Sirius!"

"What?" he asked. "You like her, she likes you. The answer to this question is very simple: good, ol' snogging."

"Sirius!" Harry's voice rose as did the temperature of his burning face.

"What?" He raised a curious brow and leaned in close. "Unless you already have a snogging partner?"

A pair of smirking, stony-gray eyes danced across his mind. Harry forced the image away before his burning face combusted. "N-no." he cleared his throat. "No."

Sirius smiled, but it was one that said he didn't believe him one bit. Not trusting himself to speak, Harry took a long sip of his drink, needing something to do. Sirius's smile changed; less teasing, more sincere. "In all seriousness, I'm glad you're here, Harry. I have to say, I thought I'd never be able to do this with you."

His earlier frustration and embarrassment dissolved as a small smile curved his lips. "Me too." he said.

Sirius ruffled his hair, and the two celebrated the fun day with a clank of their glasses just as Remus came to join them.


	26. Unraveling Inner Roots and Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep me in your prayers, you guys because from this week until the damn 21st, I will be up to my eyeballs in assignments, working on essays, studying for finals. May I somehow make it through with most of my sanity in tact.

Draco never thought he would say this, but for the first time in almost fourteen years he actually hated France.

Well, actually, maybe he should be more specific. It wasn't that he hated the country. After all, it was where half his heritage originated from. It housed one of his favorite cities in the world. It was enriched with culture, art, music-and the most delicious food. He liked France just fine.

It was the stupid retreat his parents dropped him off at, which he hated.

It wasn't even a retreat. It was a camp, and not just any one. It was a specialized camp meant to help students unlock their mysterious side and, for those who already unlocked that side, how to master their abilities.

And what mysterious side would that be? Their Veela side.

The creature was no lost concept to Draco. He was already familiar with the basics thanks to Mother who spent the previous summer teaching him of their family history, then had sent him dozens of books that spoke more of their heritage. He understood that Veela blood ran through his veins; it was very strong in the Black lineage. The gene itself, though, was unpredictable, emerging every now and then, sometimes touching all the siblings in one family or just one child, sometimes going from great-grand uncle to a distant cousin. The last Black who carried the gene was a great-great grandfather.

Which was why Draco didn't put too much thought into it. Why he shouldn't even be here in the first place. Magical inheritance didn't fully emerge till the witch or wizard reached sixteen, which meant he still had almost two years to see if he possessed the gene. Sadly, that wasn't enough to convince Mother. Or Father. Or the stupid teachers that insisted he attend every single class and lesson, despite the fact he couldn't participate in most of their activities. Activities that required wings, claws-body parts he did not (and most certainly did not want to) have.

" _Un bonbon pour un sourire?_ "

_A candy for a smile?_  Draco frowned down at the mushroom soup he chose for lunch that he was more-so staring at than eating. He directed that dark frown up at the girl who had the audacity to not only take the empty chair across him without asking for permission, but to do so with a teasing smile.

"Do I look like a child?" he snapped.

Amusement touched her curved lips. "Well, you certainly act like one."

Draco sneered. Fleur Delacour returned the look with a charming smile he imagined that would have buffoons falling at her feet.

Alright, fine, perhaps it was unfair to call them buffoons for falling. The girl was undeniably, impossibly beautiful with her long, light hair that was so pale it was almost silver in the sunlight, eyes that were large and deep-blue, and her skin fair and flawless. Even her teeth were perfect, all thirty-two digits gleaming pearly-white. Her tall, willowy frame was always shown nicely by her form-fitting clothes.

She had been appointed as Draco's guide when he first came to the camp. It wouldn't have been so bad if the girl didn't take her job so seriously, making sure to escort Draco to each of his classes as if him being on his own would ensure he'd be lost, spouting information about Veela and the importance of maintaining their wings, reviewing everything that happened in class and frowning disappointedly whenever he couldn't fill in the gaps to her questions, taking pure delight in his misery.

Three years his junior and a half-Veela, Delacour considered herself an expert and loved having a young, ignorant mind to teach. She was like a prettier, blond-haired, French version of Granger. Only a tad bit less insufferable.

"Why ze long face?" she asked. "It can't because of ze accommodations."

That was one thing he was grateful for: that the lodgings were to his standards. It wasn't like those horrible Muggle camps Harry told him about with overheated, unbearably-hot log cabins and flimsy tents, ridden with vicious mosquitoes, where they were forced to eat slop not even the bugs would indulge in. The retreat was more elegant than those nightmares. More so that classeswere set up in a luxurious five-star hotel with fine suites for the students, gourmet chefs preparing them quality meals, and various entertainments to keep them occupied in between classes such as the pools, the tennis court, the Quidditch field.

Too bad, that wasn't enough to make this summer decent.

Draco shrugged with one shoulder and took a stab at his soup, breaking the soggy mushroom into smaller pieces.

"I've talked with your instructors."

It was a breadcrumb meant to draw him out, only he refused to take the pitiful offering. Delacour sighed and continued on.

"Zey say zat even though you seem to pay close attention to lessons, you don't participate in zem."

Draco shrugged again, hiding a smirk as he watched a frown cross her pretty face.

"Do you think it's not important? Zat it's-'ow you say-useless?"

Draco wiped his mouth with a red linen napkin, taking his sweet time. "Unimportant," he finally said. "no. Useless, no. However they are not relevant to me."

"Oh?" A sharp brow arched. The gesture reminded him less of Granger and more of his mother, who always seemed to know something before anyone else did.

He wasn't sure if it was the one-word question or the familiar gesture that annoyed him. Either way it caused him to bristle, his words sharpening as he said "Let's see. Most of the activities involve flying lessons, wing-maintenance, or claw-shifting. Parts, which in case you didn't seem to notice, I do not have."

"Yet."

"And there's no possible way of knowing if I even have the gene."

"Yet."

The spoon he used for his soup crumbled in his fist. While he would never strike a lady, he doubt anyone would blame him if a hexing spell accidently hit her. Especially if she was pushing his buttons. Especially if, Merlin help her, she said, "yet," one more time.

He forced himself to take in a deep breath. "What's the purpose of having non-Veela students here? They can't exactly learn to control powers they don't have."

"True," Delacour nodded. "But it is never too early to start to learn. To become familier with ze customs, ze history, ze abilities. Ze sooner we learn, ze easier the transition is."

Okay, fair point. Magical children were required to take lessons before they came to Hogwarts so they were prepared.

"But zat's not all that concerns you, is it?"

Draco paid close attention to his soup.

"I'm curious, Draco. You experience any symptoms before you came here?"

"Why?" he smiled sweetly at her, his tone jagged. "You volunteering to be my nurse?"

Her smile remained to his annoyance. "I don't mean regular symptoms like fever and shivers. I mean more…" She took a moment to find the right word. "inward."

He could barely suppress the snort that ripped through his mouth.

"Like nose sensitivity?"

So he happened to tell who did and didn't take a bath. It wasn't exactly a magic trick. Anyone could do it by simply looking, taking in the person's ragged appearance. And if he happened to notice more, then it was nothing. Although it did come in handy in figuring out where friends were if he noticed the extra musk sticking to their skin.

"'aving strange dreams?"

The second snort that had been ready to launch ceased fire as fragments crashed into his head. Him and Harry entangled in the snow like they were earlier afternoon that day, but with a different ending. Followed by dozens of dreams afterward, sometimes taking place in the snow or in their room or in an empty classroom consisting of touching, kissing, lots of kissing, clothes shedding, more kissing and touching and feath-

_Stop!_  He commanded, forcing his mind to stop before the fragments became a whole picture.

Across from him, Delacour's faint smile blossomed into a full one, as if one look into his flustered face gave her all the answers she needed.

Okay, so those may have happened-more than once-but so what? Dreams were dreams; they didn't mean anything. He was ready to tell her that till she cut him off with another question.

"Also strange behavior? 'ave you noticed zat?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Lately 'ave you felt more irritated? More anxious? Impulsive?"

Of course he was irritated. He was miles away from his best friend who was doing Merlin knows what with a buffoon and a dangerous werewolf that could easily be set off while he was forced to endure Veela classes. Anxious since the previous school year nearly took a good decade or two off his life, thanks to dementors, school break-ins, crazy dogs, and the goddamn git dragging him into danger. It was a miracle he didn't suffer a heart attack. As for being impulsive? Would hexing a girl to the other side of the room so he could be left alone count?

His lack of response seemed to be the perfect answer for her. She inclined her head in a satisfied nod.

The spoon was now a crumbled mess. He placed it beside his soup and pushed the bowl away, his appetite gone. "Are we done here?"

"No," she answered. "Have you also noticed new changes with your body?" Before he could hit her with a comment, she said, "I don't mean claws and wings. And before you ask, no, I also don't mean fangs. We don't 'ave them. I mean something else. Like your features sharpening? Eyes changing color?"

He took it back. She was just like Granger, an insufferable insect with a prettier face. "Doesn't mean anything."

She leaned forward and stared at him for what felt like an long hour. "You're scared."

Of all the things she could say, he didn't expect that. Or for the words to cause shock to slam against his system like a fist.

"You're scared because you are a man who likes to be in control, and coming into a possible inheritance scares you because you can't control it. You're scared of what ze changes will do to you. 'ow they will affect you."

Any answer, any word, or even a scoff would be better than silence. Except he couldn't think of anything, not a response.

The gentle look that crossed Delacour's face did little to soothe him. "You're also scared of ze transition. 'ow painful it will be, 'ow it will change you."

Anything was better than silence, but that was all his mind could give. All he could give.

"I understand zat it can be scary. It was for me when I went through it. But zat is ze case for every new phase. Some of ze…processes can be scary, but ze results can be magnificent. Zere is also ze gifts zat come with ze gene."

"What sort of gifts?"

Delacour gave him another charming smile. Feathers burst from her back, causing Draco to nearly fall off his seat. The feathers sprouted from his back, growing and unfolding into a pair of beautiful wings.

"I like to think zey are a very special gift."

Draco couldn't help but stare at them. Even he couldn't try to mask his amazement at their beauty. It was one thing to see wings in a book. It was another to see them in person. Questions rose in his head. Did the wings hurt every time they came out? Would he need special clothes for them?

"Among others," she continued. "Such as ze strength, heightened senses, the allure."

The allure, the Veela allure that was just as powerful as a vampire's. Even more so, according to one of his teachers. One glance into the Veela's eyes and the person was instantly under their spell. The Veela could have them do anything he or she wished: fall at their feet and declare their undying love, act the fool for their amusement, even jump off a roof if they wanted. The Veela could also manifest the allure, having it affect only one person but an entire crowd if they focused hard enough.

That was the only part Draco didn't mind so much.

"And zere's more."

"More than little parlor tricks and wings?"

Delacour was unfazed by the comment. "Discovering not only our inner self but our other 'alf." There must have been confusion written on his face because she kept going on. "Our mate."

Draco's heart skipped like a pebble tossed across a lake, going once, twice, three times before sinking. Or in this case stopping. "M-mate?"

Delacour nodded. "Zey are our opposite in every way but are also our equals. Zey are both, in a sense, our greatest weakness as well as our greatest strength."

Words. He needed his words. He needed to speak. To say something, anything. "So," he said. "this mate?" He couldn't explain nor suppress the shiver that ran through his body as the word rolled off his tongue. "It can be anyone? Like someone under the allure?"

"No and yes." He didn't need to look into a mirror to know that confusion shaped his face. "Mates can sense ze allure. Zey can feel zat pull, but zey don't fall for it. Not completely. As for it being anyone?"

Draco had no idea how much the topic interested him until he found himself leaning forward.

"Most times, yes, a mate can be a stranger. Sometimes zey can be an acquaintance you're already familiar with." A soft touch of wonder, the only word he could think of at the moment that seemed perfect, settled on her face. "Few times it can be someone already close to us. A person who play big role in our life. Someone we keep close in our 'eart."

He nodded absentmindedly without hearing the words, his interest fading. He then reached for his glass of iced tea that was getting more lukewarm the more it sat there.

"Such as a best friend."

The moment he took a sip of his drink, the words slipped out from her mouth, causing not only for a jolt to run through his body, but for the drink to go down the wrong pipe that set him off in a near-choking fit.

It took a few minutes and several sips of iced tea to settle his coughing.

"P-pardon?" He was never more glad that the school, camp, whatever the hell they liked to call themselves didn't allow outside visitors which included parents. If Father were to come in and see how his heir was behaving, flustered and stammering like an imbecile…Draco had no idea what he would do. However he knew the results wouldn't be pleasant, least of all for him.

Delacour's amused, almost-knowing smile brightened. "In a few cases, a small fraction really, of Veelas find zeir mates in zeir best friends. Someone already important to them. Close to their 'earts."

Against his better judgment and control, green eyes danced across his vision. Colored a unique green that was too deep and too bright with specks of gold, framed with hideous glasses that couldn't diminish their brilliance, and unruly dark-

_Stop it_! He needed to stop. He had to stop and shove the thought far away, banishing it to the deepest, furthest corners of his mind.

"Sometimes, ze the Veela feels ze pull before ze mate. Sometimes ze pull is feeling. Few times it can be voice."

_Mine_ , it whispered, bringing to mind soft, pink lips that tasted so sweet, miles of beautiful skin that was smooth and golden. Beautiful skin that needed to be touched, to be kissed, to be marked-

_STOP!_

"Fascinating." he managed to say. He was proud that his voice remained steady. "But as I said, we don't know if I even have the gene."

Delacour gave a slight nod, the smile still attached to her face. "Zen I suppose we wait and see."

Later on that night Draco prepared for bed.

The room was immensely smaller than his own at the Manor, even smaller than his Hogwarts dorm. But it had a comfortable bed in a much-needed king size, decent closet space, and, most importantly, it was his and only his. Merlin knew what the hell would happen if a roommate was forced on him. Actually scratch that. He knew what would happen, and knew the roommate wouldn't last long.

After his body was dried from his late-night shower and moisturized with his favorite lotion, he slipped on his pajama bottoms, then reached for his shirt. Before he pulled it over his head, curiosity trickled his head. He walked over to the full-length mirror attached to the closet door, turned around, and looked over his shoulder to examine his back. Nothing. Just skin, pale skin that looked like it could use another dab of lotion but other than that nothing. No feathers, no strange marks.

He looked down at his hands, seeing that his nails were a bit uneven but not sharp. Then, his teeth to make sure they were still normal.

As he pulled his lip higher, widening his mouth, and leaned in close to the mirror to examine the back teeth, it dawned on him what he was doing. Sheepishly, he took a step back, dropping his hand from his mouth, then that sheepishness darkened to annoyance once he realized how utterly ridiculous he was being.

Honestly. Checking for wings? Examining his nails for claws? His teeth for Merlin's sake?

_Idiot_ , he scoffed as he pulled on his shirt.

As much as Draco hated to admit it, his mind couldn't let go of the conversation he had with Delacour. Even worse, he was finding actual points the girl made to be interesting and, to an extent, insightful. It irritated him. More than that, he was miserable.

Last summer, Harry was all the way in Moscow while he was stuck at the Manor, suffering from severe boredom and also from an unbearable ache, throbbing in his chest like a heartbeat but each pulse unleashed a flare of pain. This summer, the ache was back, more intense than before, steady as a heartbeat, punctuating into every inch of his chest like hammered nails. Searing-hot nails slowly but harshly digging deeper in, inch by inch. Just like last summer, the ache started the second a familiar black mop disappeared into the floo's green flames. And just like then, exchanging letters almost everyday did little to soothe it.

Draco wondered what Harry would make of this place. His best friend had recently become familiar with some of the Veela aspects after coming across one of the books Mother had him deliver for her. He didn't know what Harry had seen or how far he had gotten into the book. What he did know was right after Harry handed him the book, he asked Draco to see more of the other books she had given him. If he was allowed to visit, would he think the school was just as ridiculous as Draco did? Or would he think the opposite, as he often did, and see some strange appeal to it? What would he think of Delacour?

A scowl curved Draco's mouth as he thought back to the girl's charming smiles, mashing it with the image of Harry receiving that smile and becoming a love-sick puppy, making his stomach churn. Maybe he couldn't blame his best friend for drooling since, annoying or not, Delacour was a pretty girl. Most would even say beautiful.

_Just because he can't help it_ , he scowled as he crawled into bed,  _doesn't mean I have to like it_.

The scowl soon vanished as he thought back to their conversation, about him needing to be more open-minded with the place and the teachers' lessons. About the high possibility of him inheriting the gene and the "gifts" that came with it. Like the wings, the claws that could prove to be as useful as a wand, the heightened senses, the allure, and the Veela's other half.

Or mate to put it bluntly.

A mate who was his opposite in almost every way but also his equal. Someone who'd take immediate notice of the allure if he used it on them, not falling prey to his charms. Someone who'd be his greatest weakness as well as his greatest strength.

"Weakness." Draco scoffed. That was one unappealing bit about the package. The Veela's mate being a weakness to them. The way Delacour talked, it was like the mate was a crutch the Veela constantly leaned on. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys do not allow weaknesses of any sort.

He pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes. He rolled onto the left side, then his right, finally flipping onto his back again when sleep refused to come to him.

His mind refused to let go of the conversation, about the possibility of gaining a mate. According to Delacour, the mate could be anyone. A stranger he may come across that falls for him the instant their eyes meet and who he falls for a second later. Someone he was already familiar with, like a student he passed by in the halls he didn't spare a glance at before but would apparently do more so If the Veela deemed them worthy. Or-

" _A person who play big role in our life. Someone we keep close in our 'eart…a best friend."_

An image popped into his head, a familiar picture from one of his books. Of the winged man entangled in another's embrace, a person who was one second a woman, the next a man. The image altered with himself as the Veela and Harry as the other person, wings bursting from his back, enveloping around them like a safe cocoon. The image dissolved into another: them entangled in the snow, limbs entwined and touching in ways they never were before, calling attention to their newly-developed bodies and the tension that hung between them like a heavy curtain. How they were so close to each other, all it would have taken was a kiss to close the distance between them. Which brought to mind all of the times their lips touched and the familiar warmth that blossomed at five years old when they commenced the serpent salute always ignited, developing over the years as they had, becoming less innocent and more-more intense.

Draco recalled the last time contact like that happened between them. When he was finally allowed to see Harry after barely surviving the dementors, feeling like he was falling into a cold, black hole and trying so desperately to stay afloat. To keep fighting alongside Harry. To stay awake. When he came into the room and those beautifully-alive emerald greens looked at him, instinct just took over.

He needed physical evidence that Harry was okay. Needed to not only see but feel that he was alright. That-

_Stop_! He commanded before his mind dragged him down to a black hole he'd never be able to crawl out of.

He smacked the palms of his hands against his forehead. "Goddamn bloody hormones." He wouldn't only need to deal with them, but Veela instincts that may or may not happen.

That…Draco lowered his hands as he thought over it. That left some room, almost two years of it. Time to settle with everything, to deal with his feelings.

Wait and see, as Delacour said. And if and when by the time he got his answer, he'd figure out where to go from there.


	27. Let the Games Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to update tomorrow but thanks to one persuasive reader, Blondiebhappy, who is going through finals (I understand the damn struggle, currently though them myself this week) I decided to do it a day early.

Images pounded against his head like a sledgehammer: an old man following the hum of hissing voices as he crept into a room, two figures positioned by the fireplace, a short man cowering away from the other one perched on the chair, his skeletal body frail, eyes chilling. A door creaking, red eyes laughing, green light flashing, a body crashing to the floor with his eyes, dull and lifeless, staring up at the ceiling.

" _Harry Potter," he drawled. "is mine."_

A gasp tore through Harry's throat as he woke up, the dream breaking apart into fragments.

His forehead was burning up as if he had a fever of a hundred and five, pain radiating from his scar. He placed a finger against it and hissed as the touch sent flares of pain through his body.

Harry reached over for the glass of water sitting on his nightstand, grimacing at the stale taste but gulping down the entire drink in seconds. He grimaced again as he crawled out of bed, his pajamas damp with sweat that hung heavily on his body. He walked over to the dresser and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

His hair had grown out; it was now brushing past his ears and was messier than before, dark strands ruffled around his head like a bird's nest. It was damp with sweat, plastered onto his forehead. His lightly-tanned skin that had darkened during the summer was almost white as a sheet. His bright-bright green eyes wide and dazed with fear.

The lightning bolt slashed across his forehead looked just as vicious as it did the night he received it. So thick, it nearly took up one side of his head, and-dear Merlin-it was _glowing_  bright red.

Harry blinked and shook his head.

When he looked back at the mirror, the scar was just as it was: a thick bolt, darker than his skin. No glow, no red.

Was he dreaming?

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he was just seeing things but the dream…there was no way it couldn't be nothing, not the way his scar burnt up. Not the way he was frozen by fear that held him in a tight grip, caused by the conversation he overheard.

Walking back to his bed on shaky feet, he tried to remember as much as he could about the dream, but the more he thought back, the less he remembered. It was falling apart into pieces, the fragments dissolving like quicksand. He remembered-remembered-the short servant. The weak figure by the fireplace. The old man intruding, then falling. Dying by a stroke of green light. Those chilling words.

" _Harry Potter is mine."_

A shiver crawled down his spine like a spider.

There was no way his mind could come up with a dream like that. Something that chilling, that vivid-

"You alright, kiddo?"

Harry had no idea how tightly he was clenching onto the blanket till he felt the strain in his hands. Had no idea he was looking down till his vision changed from his dark sheets to Sirius, the concern sculpted onto his face as he stood in the doorway, watching him.

"I-" He wasn't alright. He was miles away from it, countries even. The spinning in his head slowly decreased but each spin was like a boomerang slicing through his skull. "No," he finally admitted. "I'm not."

Sirius nodded, then walked into the room. He came in as a man. By the time he approached the bed, he was a dog, leaping onto the mattress and settling himself beside Harry.

A faint smiled touched Harry's lips. Whenever Sirius was around during the nightmares, he'd transform into his Animagus form and stay close to his side, chasing the bad dreams away. Slinging an arm around him, Harry nuzzled close to Sirius.

"Thanks Paddy."

He heard a soft growl before he closed his eyes, and sleep finally took him away.

The next morning, Harry woke up earlier than usual, both because of the plans he had with Ron and his family and, during the moments of drifting between sleep and consciousness, remnants of what happened last night fell like snowflakes in his head. Slow and steady until they piled up, the fragments becoming a whole picture, bringing back the cold grip of fear that clutched onto him like a fist.

Voldemort. He dreamt of Voldemort. More than that, he saw him, felt him. He was weak, his body frail as paper, but far from powerless-not entirely. He possessed enough terror to silence his follower with several cold stares that could freeze a person's veins. Enough power to kill that poor Muggle man with only a flick of his wrist.

" _Harry Potter is mine_ ," he hissed, the words a promise that rang of absolute. That he would see it till the end.

The short man that had been with him, the one skidding away from the serpent kept close by his master's side, wincing at the cold looks aimed his way. With his thinning hair and plump frame, there was no doubt it was Pettigrew. But...that was impossible, right? Pettigrew was in Azkaban, rotting away in a cell. Voldemort was-well, Harry couldn't say dead, not when Dumbledore himself was hesitant to use the word. But he was gone. Harry saw his ashes wither away. Tom Riddle, the piece that was embedded in the journal, was destroyed during Harry's fight with the basilisk. Yet….doubt unraveled in Harry's chest, rolling faster than a thread being spun on a wheel.

As crazy as it was, as impossible as it might be, Harry knew that it was true. Voldemort, somehow, someway was back. Actually back.

Harry reached into his nightstand drawer for paper and a quill. Dipping it in a jar of black ink, he scrawled  _Dear Draco_  across the sheet only to stop afterwards. He couldn't tell Draco. Not when his best friend already had so much on his plate. Learning more of his Veela heritage, the signs that pointed to him possibly carrying the gene, his annoyance at the Veela bootcamp (or hell, as he called it) he was at.

The last letter he got from Draco spoke of nothing but clear, absolute annoyance at the place and his parents, distress over a conversation he had with a Fleur Delacour although he was vague with the details. Not only did the letter carried heavy weights of annoyance but also of loneliness. Loneliness that pulled at Harry's heart, making it clear that, despite all the fun he was having, the emotion wasn't one-sided. He missed his best friend. He wished he could fire-call Draco, but his camp didn't allow it. Something about needing to separate their students from outside distractions to keep them more focused.

And this was the type of conversation that needed to be done face-to-face, not on paper.

With a defeated sigh, Harry dropped his quill. He couldn't tell Draco, but maybe he could try his other friends. Except they be more skeptical. Theo would say he'd need something more solid than a dream. Pansy would think his late-night reading was messing with his head. Blaise would either take it seriously or make it into a joke. Crabbe and Goyle…as lovable as they were would probably think indigestion.

He could tell Hermione. She was just as reasonable as Theo. A strange dream would be more than enough for her to call the need for investigation. Except Hermione's first response to almost anything was telling Dumbledore, which wasn't a bad call but one Harry wasn't ready to make. Not yet.

Ron's reaction would be an either-or.

Harry bit his lip. He could tell Severus, but Harry remembered he was called away for business. To a remote place where fire-calls weren't allowed and it'd take days for Hedwig to fly out and get back a response. So that was out. Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa were all the way in Paris.

A growling from his stomach interrupted his train of thoughts.

Breakfast first, then he'd figure out what to do.

Sirius was already waiting in the dining room, seated at the table, reading through the comics while whistling Bon Jovi's  _Dead or Alive_ , a song Mum got him and the rest of Dad's gang into when she introduced them to records. Sirius liked to think of it as his theme song.

"Morning kiddo."

"Morning." Harry replied as he sat across from him. Kreacher popped next to him, dropping a plate that contained a ham and cheese omelet and toast. Harry nodded in thanks.

"Rest well?" The question was innocent but Harry spotted the concern in his eyes.

"Not at first," he admitted. "But after awhile, I slept like a dog."

It was such a lame joke, but it made Sirius smile just the same.

Sirius waited awhile for Harry to say anything else, but when Harry sent him only a smile, he accepted it, raising his mug and returning to the comics. Harry knew Sirius wouldn't push him on the matter until Harry confided in him. It was one of the things he loved about him.

"Well, you must be excited." Sirius said.

A smile curled Harry's lips. The World Quidditch tournament was today, which Harry and his friends would be seeing thanks to Mr. Weasley who had gotten great seats from a friend at the Ministry. Enough seats for his entire family, enough seats for Ron to bring Harry and Hermione along. It was like the wizarding world's version of the Olympics, bigger though with flying and tricks. The last time Harry went, he was around nine or ten and it was one of the best nights of his life. Uncle Lucius had gotten them the best seats, treating the boys to all the toys and food they wanted. Harry and Draco could barely sit still, cheering as they watched the players whirl over their heads.

"It's too bad you and Remus can't come with us." Harry said.

Mr. Weasley had two more tickets to spare, but both men declined. Remus because a full moon was too close-by, he was low on Wolfsbane, and didn't want to take chances. He left last night for the Shrieking Shack, saying he'd be back in a few days. Sirius couldn't go because the same time the tournament was starting, he had therapy. Aunt Cissa made it clear if he went against any of the conditions she set, she'd revoke the summer visitation.

"Wish I could too," Sirius said. "Maybe I can-"

"Sirius."

He smiled innocently, a mischievous gleam shooting through his eyes. "You know what they say, kiddo. Strays always turn up at the strangest places."

"Sirius."

Sending Harry a wink, Sirius flipped the next page of his paper and switched his whistling tune to  _Dead or Alive_  to  _Stairway to Heaven_.

* * *

The journey to the tournament was longer-far more than Harry expected. Ron and his family along with Hermione picked him up at Grimmauld Place before eight, and they used the portkey that took them through various stations and stops before reaching the woods where participants and fans were camping out, running into new and familiar faces.

Like a member from the Ministry who butchered a newly-intern Percy's name as he served him tea, failing to improve him. Seamus and Dean who were rooting for the Ireland team, decked out in various shades of green. Cho Chang, pretty as always, with a group of friends. Even Cedric Diggory and his dad.

Fred and George weren't too friendly with him at first, still sore over his win at the last Quidditch game where he got the snitch while Harry was swarmed with dementors. Harry, though, didn't hold a grudge.

Cedric, good-looking with his auburn hair and light gray eyes, was a nice guy who was friendly with everyone, even those outside his house. His dad though…

"Imagine," the man grinned. "You actually gained the upper-hand over Harry Potter. It's a great story to tell your grandkids."

Harry bit his lip to hold in a groan. Cedric shot him an apologetic smile and shrugged, as to say,  _Dads? What can you do?_

Right after Harry and his friends stopped by the shops, nearly clearing out their pockets by buying trinkets and shirts and posters, Mr. Weasley led them into the woods, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around, shouting and laughing, catching snippets of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious Harry couldn't stop grinning. They walked through the wood for minutes, talking and joking, until they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, taking in the awestruck looks on their faces. "Ministry task forces of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling charms on every inch of the place. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remember urgent appointments and dash away again…bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through the doors into the strands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goalposts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry, filling up the first two rows, looked down.

He felt like he was nine again, bathed in the sweet excitement thrumming in the air like the beat of a drum. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light which beamed from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry's level, was a gigantic blackboard with advertisements dashing across it in golden writing.

"Ladies and gentlemen…welcome!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed throughout the stadium. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to their racket. The huge blackboard opposite them wiped clear of its last message and showed  **BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.**

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the...Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. " _Veela!_ "

"What are veel-"

A hundred veela were now gliding onto the field, answering Ron's question for him. Harry saw the pictures from Draco's strange books, but it was different seeing them in person. For one, the Veela entering the field were women…the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen…except they carried no wings like the man from the books. Power practically oozed from them. What made their skin shine moon-bright like that? Or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind…but the music started, and Harry stopped worrying. The Veela started to dance and Harry's mind had gone completely, blissfully blank. All that mattered was that he kept watching the Veela, because if they stopped dancing, terrible things would happen...

No, that couldn't be right and yet in that moment it seemed the God-honest truth. He needed to keep watching them. Needed to get closer.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione's voice sounded miles away.

The music stopped. Harry blinked. He was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in a position that looked as though he was he were about to dive from a springboard.

Angry yells filled the stadium. The crowd didn't want the Veela to go. Harry was with them.

"The Great Defender of the Wizarding World falls prey," Ginny grinned, suddenly beside him. "to the power of beautiful, siren-birds."

Harry playfully knocked his shoulder into hers, causing a stream of giggles to flutter from her mouth.

After Ireland mascots, an army of leprechauns, drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the Veela and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match, the team members were announced. Each clad in their national colors, zooming through the stadium on their Firebolt brooms. When Victor Krum zipped through, the audience set off the place with screams and cheers. He was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an ever-grown bird of prey. It was hard to believe that he was only eighteen.

The referee strode onto the field, a small and skinny wizard with a thick mustache that reminded Harry of his estranged uncle Vernon. The man mounted onto his broom and flew high till he was close to Harry's level. With a sharp blast of his whistle, he released the balls into the air.

"Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey're off!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Harry had never seen it played before. The speed of the players was incredible-the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to the one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland."

"Foul!" Ron cried.

"Levski's got the Quaffle!" Harry yelled.

""Honestly, you two." Hermione rolled her eyes as Troy did a lap of honor around the field.

Harry knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves. The rosette on Harry's chest kept squealing their names: "Troy-Mullet-Moran!" Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match soon turned in a faster, more brutal pace. Volkov and Vulchonov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as hard as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using their best moves.

Penalties were soon delivered to the players, more so to Ireland than Bulgaria, which caused an uproar with the audience, and soon one among the mascots. The leprechauns rose into the air, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign at the Veela across the field. At this, the Veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began to throw what appeared to be fire at the leprechauns.

Watching them through his Omnioculars, Harry saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, they were frightening, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked birds heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders-

"And that, boys," Mr. Weasley yelled over the tumult of the crowd. "Is why you should never go for looks alone."

Harry winced as he saw one of the Veela's beaks clamped down on a leprechaun's arm, its formerly breathtaking face wildly animalistic and twisted in rage. A familiar blond flashed through his head. Is that what Draco's face will look like if he carried the gene, if he got mad enough?

Ministry wizards were flooding into the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success. Meanwhile, the pitched battle was taking place above was just as crazy. Harry turned this way and that, staring through his Ominioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski-Dimitrov-Moran-Troy-Mullet-Ivanova-Moran again-Moran-MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the Veela, the blasts now firing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov-

The Irish beater, Quigley, swing heavily at a passing Bludger and hit as hard as he could towards Krum, who didn't duck quiet enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but the referee didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Harry couldn't blame him. One of the Veela threw a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Harry wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured. Although he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

"Ah, come on. He can't play like that, look at him-"

" _Look at Lynch!_ " Harry yelled.

For the Irish seeker had suddenly gone into a dive.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on… but with Krum right on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Harry had no idea. Flecks of blood were flying through the air behind him, but he drawing level with Lynch now as the two hurtled towards the ground again-

"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked.

"They're not!" Ron roared.

"Lynch is!" Harry yelled.

And he was right-for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately trampled by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch!" bellowed Charlie, along with the crowd.

"He's got it-Krum's got it-it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently in the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing  **BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170** across the field. For a moment, silence fell over the crowd, taken back what just happened, what they've seen. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken back by the end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH-BUT IRELAND WINS-good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding. "He ended it when Ireland was a hundred and sixty points already, the idiot."

"I think it was a daring move," Hermione argued with a glare. "One that should be applauded for."

"I'm surprised you actually knew what was going on with the way you making goggle-eyes at the bloke."

Her glare intensified as blood filled her cheeks.

"He knew they were never going to catch up," Harry shouted over all the noise, applauding just as loudly as his friends. "The Irish Chasers were too good. He wanted to end on his terms, that's all."

"Which, I repeat, is a daring move," Hermione said. "One that should be applauded for. Praised."

"Then enjoy applauding and praising from your one-woman band, Hermione." Ron commented, then winced as the girl swung a hard punch at his arm.

"He was very brave, though, wasn't he?" Hermione leaned forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of Medi-Wizards blasted a path through the battling veela and leprechauns to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess."

"And yet, you're still drooling."

Hermione punched Ron again on the same arm, twice as hard.

The Bulgarians were too dejected to help their injured teammate, sullen and annoyed, like the Slytherins were when the Gryffindors won the House Cup. The Irish players, on the other hand, were climbing on top of each other, laughing, crying, cheering, celebrating as wildly as their fans were.

Minister Fudge carried the dazzling World Quidditch Cup Trophy over to the field, lines of annoyance still fixated on his face after discovering that the European official he was trying to translate for spoke perfect English but enjoyed seeing the man act the fool. Fudge tried not to let his annoyance show, plastering on a smile as he stepped onto the platform. The Irish captain and two of his teammates followed him up to claim their prize.

But before they could touch the trophy, a clap of thunder banged against their eardrums.

"What the…" Ginny said, staring up at the sky with wide, bewildered eyes.

Rightfully so. The clear, blue sky was changing rapidly as rolls of thunder erupted, its loud clap making people in surprise. The beautiful sun and clear blue were being devoured by thick, dark clouds that cast the stadium into semi-darkness. Confused mutters and clatters of noise sounded through the place, then mutters heightened to screams as a lightning bolt shot across the sky, heading straight for the platform, narrowly missing the Minister by an inch.

One bolt followed by a series of other lightning bolts that shot from the sky, coordinated with specific targets. One that hit the bickering mascots, breaking the two apart. One that hit lower section of the auditorium, narrowly missing the front row. Another that hit the infirmary tent, forcing the Medi-Wizards to scatter. Each bolt more powerful than the last, igniting a fire that spread panic among the crowd as they scrambled for cover.

" _What's happening?!_ " Ron yelled.

"No idea!" Harry yelled back.

"It doesn't make sense," Hermione said. "The weather reports said clear sunshine."

"Well clearly the reports and Mother Nature aren't seeing eye-to-eye." Ron snapped.

Harry wasn't too sure if it was Mother Nature behind this. The power, the aura pulsing from the sky. The pattern of the thunder and lightning were off. It was all off.

His train of thought was interrupted by a burst of pain, pain radiating from his head. From his scar that burnt like fire as he hesitantly touched it, hissing in pain.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice sounded far away, fuzzy almost, as if he were drowning underwater.

"I-"

Another lightning bolt, the size of several bolts combined, shot right at their row, right at them. Harry and his friends ran. He could feel the electricity sizzling through the air behind him. Heard a scream-

Harry stole a glance over his shoulder. The wall that had protected them from falling over was crumbled ash, its burnt pieces falling onto the ground, along with Ginny who lost her footing.

"Ginny!" Harry reached forward and dove, managing to catch her just in time. Grunting, he held onto both her arms and pulled with all his might. As soon as she was secured, Ginny clutched onto Harry as she was pulled back onto the box, trembling. He tried to sooth her by stroking her hair as he chanted, "It's okay, it's okay, you're alright."

"Look!" Ron shouted, pointing.

Harry followed the direction of that pointing finger.

Streaks of lightening, this time bright green and glittering, came together, forming a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, the skull rose higher and higher, growing, blazing in a haze of green, etched against the dark sky like a new constellation.

The stadium erupted with screams.

" _What the bloody hell is that?!_ " Ron shouted.

Hermione placed a shaky hand on Harry's shoulder. Her voice quivered in fear as she asked, "Harry, is that what I think-"

Trembling just as fearfully as Ginny, Harry nodded once, confirming her suspicions.

Harry knew that mark, could remember it from countless reading of his DADA textbook. It was a mark that only the darkest wizard ever dared to use, a mark that made Aurors, and even Minister Fudge, tremble. A mark that rapidly spread fear and panic among the crowd like a plague.

Voldermort's mark.


	28. Champions, Take Your Mark

If Granger was an insect, then Rita Skeeter was a cockroach.

A complete disgusting, nauseating, irksome cockroach the general population (about a good 95%) wanted to stomp on after their reputations were tarnished by her articles. A cockroach Draco himself wanted to squash with the heel of his shoe after reading one too many of her articles targeting Father, trying to make him into some sort of evil, power-hungry villain.

Well, maybe the power-hungry was accurate, but the evil? Rubbish. A villain? Nonsense. After all, there was nothing wrong with being ambitious. It was one of the Slytherin core-values.

However as troublesome as insects were, they had their uses if not ones for entertainment.

When Skeeter wasn't trying to trash people he knew and cared enough about, she proved to be quite the storyteller. He already knew what happened at World Quidditch Cup thanks to Harry who recapped all that happened in a letter, but Skeeter featured some very interesting details regarding that day.

Like the fact most of the blame was placed on the Ministry for lack of security. Like the fact dozens of people were injured by the attack including players from the Quidditch, and were planning on suing the Ministry for the damages. Like the fact that while wizards and witches may have sustained injuries, Muggles were the actually target. Towards the middle of the lightening storm, Muggles nearby were attacked. Some flung into buildings, some pulled into the sky and touched by the lightning's power, where some survived and others didn't carry that luck, and some who had limbs severed or scars slashed upon their skin by mysterious figures clad in black and silver.

Draco snickered at the Prophet's cover featuring Minister Fudge shoving a reporter's camera away from his face, several employees trailing behind him including the head Weasel whose flustered face was as red as his hair.

Father took one look at the paper and rolled his eyes. "You know better than to fill your head with such nonsense, Draco."

"I do," he said. "However occasionally one can stumble across quite a fascinating gem hidden in the clutter."

Brow furrowed, Father stole another glance at the paper, a smile twisting his mouth as he took in the cover. "Indeed."

Mother hummed happily as she spread raspberry jam onto her croissant. "I don't think that's the only reason you're so happy today, Dragon." Her eyes twinkled as they glanced over at him.

Against his control, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

Today he was heading back to Hogwarts to begin his fourth year. More importantly he was going to see Harry again. Giddiness bubbled in his chest.

After breakfast, Draco examined his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway. It was a tough, irritating road but he could see at fourteen puberty was finally agreeing with him, adding a newfound maturity to his sharp features, one that was well-noticed by everyone towards the end of insufferable retreat and by people in the streets and shops as he did his shopping Diagon Alley, stopping dead in their tracks to stare at him. Draco couldn't exactly blame them since he did look good. His light-blond hair had grown out, nearly touching his shoulders. His complexion maintained its fair, smooth exterior through the blistering heat. Not a blemish in sight. He smiled, pleased.

"Draco, it's time to go." Mother called.

One last smile at the mirror and Draco raced downstairs, following his parents into the floo.

Platform 9 ¾ buzzed with noise. Loud laughter bursting from friends reunited after months apart, hugging and jumping on each other, talking excitedly about the new school year. Pets rattling in their cages, banging against the bars. Parents smothering their kids with hugs and kisses, repeating over and over that they'll be missed, to write every day, to be on their best behavior. Porters carrying suitcases and caged pets onto the train.

Draco spotted familiar faces. Theo in what looked to be with a deep conversation with the Ravenclaw Patil girl. Pansy, linked arm-in-arm with Daphne, laughing even though she kept looking over her shoulder to stare at Theo. Longbottom cowering away from his grandmother's fussing. Weasley with his clan of red-haired, freckled-face clones, trying to slip away from their mother's hold as Granger smirked across from him. And… _there_.

Emotions, wild as a tornado, hot as fire, hit his chest like dozens of sharp arrows nailing their mark as he spotted Harry in the middle of the Weasleys, standing beside his godfather, laughing at whatever the she-weasel was telling him. As if he could feel the heat of Draco's gaze, Harry took a step back and looked straight ahead, piercing him with those deep yet bright green eyes.

Draco shoved his trunk into a passing worker, not caring if it hit the man's chest or landed on his foot, before he took off, a smile gracing his face as he saw he wasn't the only one running to his desired destination.

Within a heartbeat, Draco's arms were wrapped around Harry, eyes closed as Harry hugged him back just as fiercely. He shuddered in delight as the comforting, warm scent of treacle tart and cinnamon swarmed his nostrils as he buried his face into the nape of Harry's neck, his messy black hair that was soft as a pillow.  _Even better than a pillow_ , he thought almost drunkenly as he nuzzled his face more into the soft skin, feeling the aches that have slashing and throbbing his chest throughout the summer disappear like specks of dust.

Unbeknownst to the boys, an odd smile crossed Narcissa's face as she stood by her husband's side, her eyes completely focused on the sight of her two boys. Her lips were pulled slightly into a smile and her eyes held affection and amusement as she watched them. It was a strange smile she wore; it was almost like the look of a woman who knew exactly was happening and was waiting in anticipation over it.

_Won't be long now_ , her smile seemed to say. Oh, she couldn't wait until her boys finally figured it out.

"I missed you." Draco murmured.

He could feel those soft, pink lips curve into a smile as Harry's hold on him tightened. He felt the curve of that smile as a soft kiss was pressed against his temple. "I missed you too."

Music to his ears. Draco's senses, his mind, his body, all of them hummed as if he drunk the most incredible champagne and was floating, feeling so happy and nice and warm. He pressed himself more against Harry, nearly piling all of his weight onto him. How he made it through this summer living in different continents with letters to make up for lack of physical contact, he had no idea. How he managed to sleep without his favorite pillow was a mystery. How he survived without his best friend by his side was unbearable. What he did know, though, was that this would be the last summer such a thing would ever happen. "Never again."

Harry chuckled as he ran his hand through Draco's hair. Draco purred, arching into the touch. Dear Merlin, how he missed his touch.

"I mean it," he insisted. "Never again."

"And if Sirius insists on another summer-long visit?" Harry teased.

"Then he shall have it," Draco answered. "through letters and firecalls."

"I second that motion, Dragon."

Harry broke apart their hug, and Draco tried to suppress the flare of annoyance shooting through his chest as Harry enveloped himself in Mother's arms.

She pecked him on the forehead and pulled him back a bit to examine him. Approval shone in her eyes as she took note of his straight posture and the fine robes covering in his body instead of the Muggle scraps he wore when Black picked him up for the summer. "I cannot express how greatly you were missed, darling."

"Usually," Father said. "I find public displays distasteful. However, given circumstances, I suppose expectations can be made."

Father didn't pull Harry into a hug like he and Mother did, but the smile that graced his mouth, though faint, did carry the same warmth. His eyes swept over Harry's frame, doing his own examination. "Let's see. No tattoos. No piercings. I don't smell foul smoke clutching onto your clothes. It seems my prayers have been answered. Black hasn't corrupted you."

"Always a displeasure seeing you, Malfoy," Black smirked as he appeared by Harry's side, sending a wink to Mother that deepened her frown.

It was hard to believe the two men came from the same circle. Father clad in his fine, woolen cloak, hair combed and tied into a low ponytail, cane in hand. Black, with his wild, dark curls, dressed in a black, ratty t-shirt with a red guitar printed across his chest and torn jeans that looked like they were devoured by moths.

Black patted Harry's shoulder, smiling down at him. "Remember to put ointment on your back, kiddo. Hate for the tattoo to get infected."

_Tattoo?_

"He's kidding!" Harry assured, shoving an elbow into the man's side.

Father and Mother weren't easily convinced, their faces set into hard frowns. Draco would have lent his friend a hand if he wasn't trying to swallow down his snickers. Luckily for Harry, the train's whistle blew, alerting students and parents it was time to depart. His parents said their goodbyes with nods and smiles while Black pulled Harry into a tight hug, ruffling his hair and missing the dark glare gleaming in Draco's eyes before the boys boarded the train.

"I'm curious, Potter. What kind of tattoo did you get?" Draco teased. "You don't seem like a flower person, but then again you never cease to amaze me."

"Shut it."

"Perhaps you gave into your reckless Gryffindor side and got a lion."

"Shut. It."

Draco snapped his fingers. "A phoenix."

"Shut up!" Harry shoved him away, scowling at the laughter chiming from his mouth.

As it turned out, they weren't the only ones who had an interesting summer. Their friends also had their own stories to share. Blaise was treated to a fun time in New York, sponsored by a man currently courting his mother as she was dealing with divorce settlements with her recent, soon-to-be ex. Pansy and her family took part in building another summer villa, this time in Brazil. Crabbe and Goyle got to test their baking skills at a fancy pastry school they gained summer admission into, eating their weight in treats. Theo experienced his own taste of heaven when he visited the Great Alexandria library that, unknown to the Muggles, was preserved, in perfect condition, and, as Theo gushed, completely  _magnificent_.

"If I could live there," he grinned. "I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"You're gonna make one lucky girl the most miserable wife," Pansy smirked. "I'll be sure to send the poor dear a lifetime supply of liquor to ease her sorrows."

"So funny you say that, Parkinson, when that's the same wedding present I plan to give to the poor chap forced to procreate with you. It will go nicely with the shovel he'll used to take you out and bury in the backyard after a good…oh, I don't know,  _week_." Theo smiled innocently at the dark look she sent him. "I only hope I get a front row seat to that show."

"Knowing you, Nott, your idea of a shovel would be some boring, old hardcover."

Theo shrugged. "Well, books do have multiple uses. Then again I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that since you…I feel like if I said preschool reading level, that would be an insult to the preschoolers."

Pansy would've clawed his eyes out if Crabbe and Goyle didn't hold her down. Blaise glanced between the two locked in a death-glare match, amusement ringing in his voice as he said, "We got liquor, shovels, books. Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful life together."

"Shut it, Zabini!"

"Would it be odd if I said that I honestly missed that?" Harry gestured towards their bickering friends.

Draco shrugged with one arm as he absentmindedly twirled a curl of Harry's hair around his finger. "Guess it proves you don't recognize the importance of background music till you reach silence."

Their compartment door flung open. Draco expected it to be a stewardess on her usual candy-run or-Merlin forbid-Weasley or Granger trying to take Harry away. Instead it was a petite girl already dressed in her Hogwarts robes with the Ravenclaw crest pinned on her chest and bright-pink high top trainers, her scraggly hair dirty-blonde and was almost down to her waist, huge sun earrings dangling from her ears, and pink sunglasses shaped like flamingos concealed her face.

_What the-_

She pushed back her sunglasses to reveal a pair of wide, grayish-blue eyes that held a dreamlike, almost trance look in their gaze. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she met Harry's eyes. "Hello Harry."

"Luna," he smiled back.

_Luna?_  Draco's brows nearly touched his hairline as Harry pulled away from him-for the second time today-and got up from his seat to pull the girl into a hug that was  _far too friendly_  for his taste.

"You're Lovegood, aren't you?" Pansy asked; her earlier annoyance with Theo a distant memory as she took in the girl's appearance.

Lovegood? Lovegood? Why did that name sound so family- _wait a tick._  "Lovegood as in Loony Lovegood?"

Harry shot him a dark frown that Draco answered back with a shrug. Lovegood took no offense to the name, smiling just as the same, when their hug was finally broken.

"The dust creatures told me where to find you." she said.

"Dust creatures?" Crabbe parroted.

She inclined her head in a slight nod. "Most people think they're just particle bits occupying space when really they are as alive as you and me. They send their messages through songs."

_Songs?_

"I was just about to go to Ginny's compartment. Ron, Hermione, and Neville are already there. Care to join us?"

Before Draco could answer the question, Harry beat him to it, saying, "I'll have to pass." It was an answer that pleased him, until he took in the brightness shining behind the smile that was reserved for the girl.

"Another time then." she said, unfazed, waving to them before she made her way out.

As soon as the door was closed, questioning glances and one accusing glare were aimed at Harry.

"She's Ginny's best friend," he said. "and during the times I was at the Burrow, she would visit."

So while Draco was apart from Harry for the whole summer, Harry had Granger, the she-weasel, and now Lovegood to occupy his time? Irritation coiled in Draco's stomach. How the hell was that fair?

"A bit young and odd for my taste," Blaise said. "but pretty enough. Well done, Potter. You must have one splendid summer with her."

"Shut up, Blaise!" Harry elbowed him. Blaise only laughed while Draco felt his left eye twitching from the vile implication behind Blaise's words.

"Or perhaps you're more into the exotic type, like that pretty Hawaiian girl."

_Hawaiian girl?!_ Draco's head spun so fast towards Harry's direction, he was sure his neck nearly snapped. Images of Harry and some bikini-clad wench rolling around in the sand unfolded in his head, causing the irritation in his stomach to morph to nausea.

"Blaise!" Harry cried.

By the wicked glint in his eyes, Draco knew the Italian was on a roll. "Understandable. Once you have that sweet tropical taste, it's hard to go back."

Harry delivered a punch to his arm and Draco lend a hand, hitting the other as acidic nausea burnt through his tissues and veins as those sick images played over and over in his head.

"You are positively indecent, Blaise Zabini!" Pansy exclaimed.

"I try, Pansy," he grinned. "I try."

He barely had time to dodge from the pillow she flung at his face.

The Welcoming feast at the castle was even more elaborate than the previous ones, filled with more songs from the choir and a new song from the sorting hat, more dishes of delicious food, and, of course, more speeches from the old goat. Presenting the strange, patched-eye retired Auror as their new DADA teacher whose name Draco already forgotten even though he was still shaking from the way those strange eye-or eye, he should say-looked over at them. Announcing that the Yule Ball would be in December, encouraging all that can attend to stay over for the holidays. Explaining Quidditch would be cancelled this year for the Trizwizard Tournament, where one brave student- _one of age_ , he emphasized-would be chosen as the Hogwarts' champion.

"A great honor." The Headmaster said.

_Great honor?_  Draco dismissed the words with a scoff. More like a great death wish.

Father had told him and Harry about the Tournament, explaining the great honors that would be bestowed to the champion only _after_  facing and possibly surviving the great dangers first. Father avoided being picked as did Grandfather, but Grandfather did have a friend who was picked to participate in the games and barely made it out alive. Apparently the friend spent the remainder of the year, along with an additional one, in therapy to heal from the horrors inflicted on him. It was that dangerous, that terrifying, and yet students were buzzing over the years, especially the Gryffindors too blinded by the promise of immense wealth to realize they might not live to enjoy it.

"How those Gryffindorks are so excited over a stupid little contest is beyond me." Draco commented as he and Harry walked into their dorm, their suitcases already unpacked and put away, a fire stirring inside the mantel, making the room nice and cozy.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You heard Dumbledore. Apparently it's a great honor."

"One that I will gladly be avoiding."

"Same," Harry agreed, then when he saw Draco's risen brow, explained, "I already had enough excitement last year. This year I just want to relax."

"You think that will be possible being the trouble-magnet Boy Who Lived?"

Draco regretted using that title as he noticed Harry stiffen for a moment, forgetting how much his best friend despised that name.

"Maybe it is, but that's all I can hope for more. Let someone else have the spotlight. They'll probably like it a lot better than I do."

And considering how much Harry hated the attention he gained from his scar and his faceoff with the Dark Lord, it wasn't too much of assumption. Especially when his fame came at the cost of his parents, which made him hate it even more. With that in mind, Draco nodded and tried to lighten the sudden somber mood by saying, "Well, your Hawaiian girl will be happy to know that she won't be a summer-widow after all."

Harry threw a pillow at his head for the comment, but Draco saw that his words worked just as he hoped, restoring the light in his eyes. "Don't say it like that. Kilia is a nice girl."

_Kilia?_  So the skank had a name? "That's not what Zabini implied."

"You and I both know that Zabini lives to make up stories. One day he and his family came to Hawaii around the same time me, Sirius, and Remus were there. He ran into me and Kilia." Harry shrugged. "It would have been rude not to introduce them."

So it was important enough to introduce Little Miss Kilia to Blaise but not important enough to tell his own best friend about? The idea stung Draco more than he thought it would.

Almost as if Harry could read his thoughts, he said, "I didn't tell you because it was honestly nothing. Kilia was nice. We got along well, and became good friends. She actually tried to teach me how to surf and gave me a tour around the island."

_In between tropical kisses and showing him the great wonders of Hawaii_ , a voice hissed in his head. Draco balled his hands into tight fists. "I see. A special friend you must have gotten along _fine_ with."

"Draco, for Merlin's sake," Harry smacked his hand against his forehead. "We kissed a few times but that was it. No need to make a big deal out of it. Besides, didn't you say you had some fun in France?"

An image popped into his head of an attractive boy with short, dark-brown hair and mischievous hazel-green eyes. Anthon. A student just as miserable as Draco was at the retreat who proposed they do something to liven things up a bit, which was nice. Really nice and fun, but…

"Mmm," Draco muttered before a pair of arms wrapped around his torso.

"As nice of a friend Kilia was, she isn't my favorite person in the world," Harry assured. "That title is reserved for a very special person, who I happen to have a gift for."

Draco was already sold at  _favorite person_.  _Very special_  eased the nausea churning in his stomach.  _Gift_  had him running to his bed, eagerly awaiting his present. He pulled out Harry's gift from his nightstand he specifically requested the house-elf to place it in, and grinned at the green-wrapped present Harry brought over.

While they could have sent their birthday gifts to each other via owl, it was much more fun exchanging them face-to-face, seeing their reactions up close. Draco hoped, though, this would be the last summer they'd be separate and have to do so.

"Sorry about the size." Harry handed him a thin, rectangular box.

Draco peeled off the cover. Nestled in black satin was a beautiful pendant, light shining from the thin golden chair and the tip of the white angel wings.

"Very funny." he commented, shoving a laughing Harry aside.

"I thought so." Draco shot him another glare, which caused more laughter to spill from his lips. "Okay, okay, here." Harry reached underneath the bed and pulled out another gift, bigger than the first one but thinner.

Inside was piano sheet music, several actually. One to the opera Mother arranged him to go see this summer despite the retreat's policy of being away from the premises that featured the most beautiful music he ever heard, another of his all-time favorite opera, and the other, Tarzan's  _You'll Be in My Heart_. The last one tugged a smile on his lips.

"Since it's your favorite Disney song, I figured you'd want to play it on the piano." Harry said.

Grinning, Draco placed the presents beside him and handed Harry his gift. He was never more glad that he insisted they wait to give each other their presents otherwise he'd miss the wonder lighting Harry's face as he lifted several, soft-leather journals from the box along with a set of fine Quills worthy enough to be written in such books and special ink-jars that would never run empty.

"Since you love reading stories so much," Draco explained, a swell of pride blossoming in his chest as awestruck green eyes turned over to him. "I'd figure you'd want to write your own."

Harry opened one of the journals, a dove-gray one, and flipped through the fresh yellow pages that were just waiting to be covered in inked words. He placed the book carefully on the bed before he flung himself over to Draco, crashing him into a tight hug that nearly crushed his ribs, but had himself smiling nevertheless.

"God, I missed you."

"I missed you, too." More than he thought he ever would.

* * *

"Harry Potter."

Just two words. Two words that made up a name. Two small words that caused the Great Hall to explode into outraged cries and screams as Harry took slow steps over to the platform where the other champions were positioned at. Shock that caused shock to shake his body as he walked over to the platform like he was marching to the guillotine, the same vast shock coursing through Draco's veins as he watched him.

Words flowed from Dumbledore's mouth, explaining the history of the tournament and the significant of the goblet, but they were words that fell to deaf ears. Particularly Draco's. The blood rushing in his ears were too loud to hear anything else, except the frantic pounding of his heartbeat.

Harry was still shaking as he climbed off the platform, just as in time as hurricane Weasley flew over to him.

" _You snake!_ " the redhead yelled. "You just can't help yourself, can you? Whatever excitement comes along, you just have to snatch it up like a glorified attention-seeker?"

Draco shrugged off Pansy's hold and charged towards them. He came in just in time to watch the shock vanish from Harry's eyes as they hardened into steel.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" Weasley spat. "You are really are a snake, aren't you? So how'd you do it, huh? How'd you cheat your way into the tournament? Did Malfoy help y-"

"If you seriously think that after everything I would do something like that," Harry spat, the venom in his voice fatal enough to kill on the spot. "Then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought! And a jerk!"

Harry knocked into him hard as he passed by. Draco couldn't resist shooting a stinging hex over at the weasel's arse for extra measure, delighted in the sound of the boy's pained cry and to see that the bottom of his trousers were torn, revealing red and gold boxers.

"Harry," Dumbledore called, the calmness in his eyes badly mixing with the tension grinding his voice. "a word."

A demand, not an invitation, one Harry had no choice but to oblige.

"Do you think he really entered himself?" A second-year asked, and then quickly backed away from the lethal glare Draco aimed at him.

It seemed like hours before Harry was finally released from Dumbledore's chambers. Draco waited for him on the opposite side of the door, staring up at the ceiling, studying its worn-out foundation and counting every crack he spotted to pass the time, sneering at the curious glances students flashed him as they passed.

When he heard the sound of the door, Draco straightened himself up. Harry was taken up back to find him there. But as shocked as he may have been, that wasn't his main concern.

"You believe me, right?" he asked. "I didn't put my name in the cup, I swear!"

Draco felt a frown pulling his mouth as he rolled his eyes. "Don't bother wasting your breath, Pot-"

An equally great amount of shock, hurt, and betrayal glowed in wide emerald-green before they hardened to anger, the thick steel sharper than they had been when they glared at Weasley. Harry spun on his heel and charged down the hall.

Draco pushed himself off the wall and chased after him, grabbing onto his arm and forcing him to halt. The fire roaring in Harry's eyes were just as fierce as the one swirling in Draco's own as the blond continued, "And telling me what I already know."

The fire swept away from Harry's eyes, leaving behind shock embers in their wake. For a moment, Harry stared at him as if Draco had spoken pig-Latin. "W-what?"

Draco folded his arms against his chest, staring him straight in the eye as he repeated, "Don't bother wasting your breath, Potter, and telling me what I already know."

"You," It took almost forever for the words to come out. "You mean-"

"I believe you." Draco told him.

Harry looked like he wasn't sure whether to pull Draco into a hug or cry in relief that there was someone who actually believed him. Fortunately for him, Draco made the decision, pulling him into a tight hug that was returned with same amount of bone-crushing fierceness.

Nearly every Slytherin was present in the common room, whispered conversations hissing through the air as the boys entered the room, close to hundreds of eyes fixed on Harry.

Questions were shot like Crucios, coming from nearly every direction, too many to count. Blaise thought shooting fireworks from his wand would silence the noise, but Pansy was already one step ahead.

She strode over to the coffee table, climbed on top, and screamed at the top of her lungs, "CAN IT, YOU TWITS!"

Silence fell over the room, silence that was slightly tampered by a groaning Theo rubbing his ears.

"Why, oh why, am I always close-by whenever you break into your shrieking fits?" he complained.

Pansy smiled sweetly at him. "Because you're so captivated by me, Nott."

"If by captivated you mean  _repulsed,_ then yes, absolutely. I completely agree."

Harry strode the center of the room before the two were locked in another argument. He took over Pansy's spot on the coffee table and swept his gaze around the room to make sure all eyes were on him. "I didn't put my name in the cup. Somehow, someway someone entered it and the cup picked it."

Murmurs broke out in the room, glances darting between friends and Harry.

"But," he went on. "I'm still going to compete."

_What?!_ The words slammed into Draco like a punch, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs.

"I have to," Harry said. "And I plan on giving it everything I have."

Draco swallowed down the shock rattling in his body like a hard pill to plaster a smirk onto his face as he took his rightfully place by Harry's side. "Which means, boys and girls, that the Slytherin House has gained itself a new Champion. One who will win."

"To the Slytherin Tournament Champion!" Blaise cried, pumping his fist into the air.

"To the Slytherin Tournament Champion!" they all cheered, fists held high, pride flourishing from their faces.

Theo went to the library to do more research on the Tournament, dragging Blaise along since an extra set of eyes would be needed. Pansy went with Daphne to the Great Hall to scope the scene in hopes of stumbling across blurted-out information that could be useful. Draco dragged Harry back to their rooms so they could talk.

Harry was protesting the whole way there, but as soon as they were alone, Draco learned it was only halfheartedly. The poor boy looked as if he'd aged ten years, weary to the point of exhaustion. He didn't even bother taking off his shoes as he collapsed onto the bed, but he did roll over to Draco as the blond crawled into bed with him, collecting him in his arms.

"Thank you," Harry whispered. "For believing me."

Even though Harry told the weasel off, the boy's accusation still hurt him as much as it infuriated Draco. The goddamn idiot called himself a friend yet no problem hurtling accusations at him the second his name was called out.

The only reason the boy still had a tongue was because Draco was needed by Harry's side. The next time he came across the weasel, he'd give him a lot more than a stinging hex.

He brushed loose black strands away from those bright greens that glanced at him. "You're my best friend and my boy, which-"  _Makes you mine._  "Which means there is no dishonesty and distrust between us," he said instead. "Plus I know you. Better than anyone."

"That you do," A smile touched Harry's face for a brief moment till it was chipped away by whatever memory surfaced in his head. "I'm scared, Draco."

He couldn't suppress the snort that ripped through his throat as he combed his fingers through Harry's hair. "I'd consider you the biggest idiot of all time if you brushed this off, thinking it's gonna be easy."

"I'm serious," Harry frowned. "After the strange dream, the World Quidditch-"

"What strange dream?" Draco demanded.

Harry then explained to him about the dream, more so nightmare, he had the night before the World Quidditch match of the Dark Lord, trying to recap whatever details he could still remember, which wasn't much.

"So you think this all ties together?" Draco asked.

"It has to," Harry said. "I mean think about it. The strange dream I had about Volder-" Harry noticed Draco's shuddering at the name and said "The Dark Lord. The attack at the World Quidditch Cup and his mark appearing in the sky. Now this? I didn't want any part of the tournament, but somehow my name was added to the cup. Not only that, but it was also picked out of the hundreds that were there."

Draco could see the connections coming together. It was too great of a coincidence to simply ignore. "Someone obviously added your name. Any guesses as to who?"

"No, none." Harry frowned as he stared off into space.

"Well it's clear that it's not your fault, which means you don't have to do it."

"If only it were that simple," Harry sighed. "Dumbledore said regardless of how it happened, the fact still remains that my name was drawn out. Thanks to that, I'm now bound in a contract."

_What?!_  "What sort of contract?"

"One where I either participate in the tournament or I refuse and die."

Draco didn't know which shocked him more: Harry's answer or the flat tone in his voice as if he already accepted his fate. "Bull!"

"I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's true," Harry snapped. "I participate or I die. It's that simple."

_Simple his arse._  "And the great Dumbledore can't help you get out of the contract?"

"He said his hands are tied."

More like tied around the lemon drop he was possibly unwrapping right now. The man was said to be one of the greatest wizards of all time and yet he can't help a student-a  _underage_  student-get out of a tournament he didn't be even want to be apart of? Complete and utter bull.

"Then we'll go to Father," Draco proposed. "He'll find a way. He always does."

"If Dumbledore can't even-"

"You of all people, Potter, should know better than to underestimate a Malfoy," Draco smirked. "He'll find a way."

Draco was sure of it. Dumbledore may be a powerful wizard, but Father was an even more powerful politician who knew where and how to pull the right strings.

"And more importantly, I'll be right there with you every step of the way." He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

He pulled back just in time to see Harry slowly shut his eyes, spotting a soft smile curling those pink lips. With his eyes still closed, Harry rested his cheek against the palm of Draco's hand, and then lifted his cheek slightly off his hand to place a gentle kiss against the center of his hand.

The touch was so faint, Draco could barely feel it and yet tremendous warmth flared from that spot like a pressure point, spreading like shockwaves through every line and curve of his hand.

_Mine_.


	29. Know thy allies, Know thy pets

Say what you will about the Slytherin House.

That if a Slytherin crossed a student's path and sent a smirk their direction, it was most likely a sign that they were behind a scheme bound to humiliate and destroy. That a good number of times Slytherins were accused of a crime, the allegations were actually accurate, but it hardly seemed to matter since the accused made sure there was little to no evidence connecting them to the crime. That, due to the house's infamous reputation of birthing dark wizards and witches including Voldemort himself, it was a common belief that every student sorted into Slytherin were bound to follow in their footsteps.

However, as ambitious as the Slytherins were, though cutthroat was their preferred method in competitions, there was also a key value in their house most people overlooked. One Harry remembered the sorting hat singing when he and his friends first walked into the Great Hall. Loyalty, which went hand-in-hand with cunningness.

Moments like this reminded Harry of that hidden value and reminded him why he was proud to be a member of that house, even if it was a shock to people that he was in the allegedly-dark, evil house.

Every Slytherin, whether they were a friend or not, someone he talked to on a regular basis or simply passed by in the common room, stood by his side while the rest of the school was against him. Granted, Hermione thankfully believed him. As did Luna and Ginny, Neville, Fred and George. However the rest of the students weren't as understanding.

Harry never had problems with Hufflepuff. On the contrary, he was fine with them; even had a few friends from there. But the entire house turned against him in support of Cedric, sending dirty looks whenever he passed by, vicious whispers going around their huddled groups. Harry understood their nastiness. They were simply looking out for one of their own. Also, Hufflepuff was often overlooked compared to the other houses, so when Cedric's name was called, it was a victory for the Hufflepuffs as a whole. A victory that turned to fool's gold when Harry's name was called out as well. However, the same excuse couldn't be used for the other two.

Luna sadly informed Harry that a majority of Ravenclaw believed that he entered his name just to show off, an offending act of snobbery which they did not approve of. As for Gryffindor, half-including Ron-believed he entered himself and the other half, well, their anger boiled down to the prejudice towards his house. The fact that a Slytherin was actually in the tournament, given the chance to bask in the supposed-glory most of them wanted for themselves, was the ultimate insult.

Thankfully Harry had his house's support to help him ignore the hatred. He had his friends. He had Crabbe and Goyle who decided, in honor of their newly-gained Champion, to whip up some of the pastries they'd learned at their pastry summer school, some which were surprisingly good, some which just turned the stomach. He had Theo who headed straight to the library and came back with over fifty heavy volumes on the tournament's history and past events, burying his face in the pages, trying to come up with a strategy. He had Pansy and even Daphne who tried to distract him with talks of the upcoming ball, reminding him it was never too early to get a date. He had Blaise who could be absolutely wicked most times but also wickedly humorous, wiping away Harry's voiced concerns with jokes. More importantly, he had Draco. His best friend who could be a royal prat and a pain but somehow made everything better with his snarkiness.

He also had a loyal Head of House and uncle.

The morning after the goblet picked the Champions, Harry woke up earlier than usual. For a moment, he had forgotten all about what happened Thursday night until the memories slammed against his head. He untangled himself from Draco's arms, jumped out of bed, and threw on fresh clothes, heading straight to Severus's chambers. He found the man hunched over his desk, mountains of essays piled around him, the quill in his hand furiously scribbling across the parchment spread out in front of him.

Without looking up from his work, Severus pointed to the empty chair across from his desk. No sooner was Harry seated did Tinky pop in, placing a freshly-brewed kettle of tea and cups on the table and disappearing in a flash.

Harry learned from experience that it was better to wait till Severus was done with his work than interrupt him. He poured himself a cup of tea, immediately soothed by the scent of chamomile, and drank. As he poured himself another cup, he snuck a peek at Severus's work. Given the constant eye-rolls and muttering coming from his uncle and the number of red-inked comments and slashes covering the page, he could only assume the student had failed.

His heart went out to the poor student who'd receive that essay back. He really hoped it wasn't Neville's.

When Severus came to the last page of the essay, he didn't even bother stamping it with comments. He simply dipped his quill into the red ink, tapped it by the side of the jar to shake the excess drops off the tip, and drew a big X on the page.

Harry really, really hoped it wasn't Neville's paper.

Severus picked up the paper with his index fingers as if it was contagious and placed it on top of the nearest pile. He then leaned against the chair, folded his arms against his chest, and stared at Harry.  _Speak_ , his hard eyes said.

Harry wasted no time. "I know it looks bad," he said. "Not just bad, really bad but it's not true. You have to believe me, Uncle. I didn't put my name in the cup."

Severus's hard glare didn't falter for a second. He stared at Harry for the longest time until Harry could feel the seconds slowly moving by like long hours. He was ready to proclaim his innocence again, but then Severus finally spoke. "The sky is blue."

Harry blinked his widened eyes once, twice, three times as if the movement could restore his hearing that temporarily went off for a second. "What-"

The next set of words that came out of Severus's mouth was just as mind-bobbling. "Dumbledore's beard is white."

Harry's brows flew up to his hairline. He resisted the urge to peer over his shoulder and see if he was being set up for some sort of prank. "I beg your par-"

"I have zero tolerance for dunderheads."

Deciding to cut straight to the point, Harry said, "I'm afraid I'm not following, sir."

"I am merely stating obvious facts. The sky is blue. Dumbledore's beard is white. I have zero tolerance for dunderheads. And while I'm well aware, Potter, you are capable of being greatly impulsive and reckless," The flash in Severus's eyes made it clear he hadn't forgotten about the bed incidence even though Harry spent most of the summer weekends making up for it with chores. "I know you're not suicidal. Nor are you are incredibly dim-witted as to place yourself in that sort of danger."

His uncle had a way with words that made it seem like each syllable was a spat-out insult, a salt-laced whip that struck the skin. Because of this talent, it took awhile for Harry to dig through the sharp sneer to uncover the subtle meaning laid underneath. Once he did, he stared back at the man dumbfounded.

Even though Harry was sure that gratitude was written clearly on his face, along with understanding and shock, Severus still felt the need to break down his short speech into simple pieces. "I believe you, Harry."

Just as it was when Draco said those exact same words, Harry felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had no idea how much he needed to hear those words again until he noticed how easier his breathing became. "Thank you, uncle."

Severus inclined his head in a slight nod. To the common eye, the man appeared as unmoved as before, but Harry saw the faint curve of a smile slightly hanging from the corner of his mouth, similar to the faint smile that flashed in his eyes. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished as Severus leaned forward in his chair. His hands rested on his desk, fingertips stretched out to meet each other.

"That being said, I hope you realize the dangerous position you are now in, Harry. The tournament is no laughing matter."

Harry nodded, frowning. "I know, and I think there might be a connection."

Severus's frown broadened. Harry told his uncle of the nightmare he had of Voldemort, the Dark Mark flashing in the sky after the World Cup, and now this: his name somehow added into the cup and picked out from the hundreds of the entries. Unlike Draco whose eyes grew wider and wider as Harry listed out the points, Severus's face remained still, almost neutral. The only flaw shattering that illusion was the questions brewing in his eyes that narrowed thoughtfully, the slopes of his brows.

When Harry was finally done, Severus looked at him almost as if Harry was a specimen that was being studied. At last he said, "Some would merely dismiss such notions as coincidences."

Harry gave a weak nod.

Severus's frown deepened. "You know what I think about coincidences."

"There's hardly such a thing." Harry answered.

Severus nodded, the frown remaining. "Have you shared this theory with anyone else?"

"With Draco," It then dawned to him how common the occurrence was. Most times whenever things were off, Draco was typically the first to know. "I also wrote to Sirius and Remus." It was the last thing he did before he went to bed.

Severus's eyes tightened at the names, but thankfully the dark look came with no comment. "Unfortunately, even though you are underage, the Ministry still insists in your participation for the tournament."

Even though Dumbledore told him as much Thursday night, it was still a blow to Harry. A terrifying one as Uncle Lucius's words of past tournaments and mentally-crippled victors flooded his mind.

"So," Severus continued. "I highly suggest you use the time and resources you need to prepare yourself. I don't need to remind you that you have less than a month till the first task."

A month Harry already knew would come in a blink of an eye. "Theo and I are already combing through past tournaments to see if there's a pattern in the tasks. I'm also looking up spells and charms that could help."

"Good."

Harry made his way to the door, but Severus stopped him with a call of his name.

"These next few weeks, months even, are not going to be easy for you. Not only because of the tasks, but from the backlash you'll be receiving from your peers." Severus's eyes pierced him like a knife. "You are to pay no mind to it, do you understand me?  _None_." The jagged tone of his voice left no room for argument. "People's critiques are no more than wasted hot air. If I took to heart every complaint and comment said against me, I would have retired long ago. Sometimes I'm tempted just to do so."

The right side of Harry's mouth lifted just a bit.

"Regardless, though, I refuse to give simpletons the satisfaction and I expect you to do the same. Hold your head high and let the wasted air go through you."

Harry's entire mouth lifted into a smile. "Yes, uncle."

Severus nodded once and plucked another essay from the paper mountain and dipped his quill in the ink jar. Harry recognized it as a dismissal, but it was an order he wasn't quite ready to make just yet.

He walked over to Severus, and as soon as his uncle lifted his head, Harry threw his arms around Severus's neck and hugged him tight.

Nine years and Severus's ways of hugging remained the same. At first he slowly laid his hand on Harry's back, almost hesitant as if he was unsure that he was the one receiving the hug. The next pat was a bit more solid, as if his disbelief was slowly waning. The final pat was firm and steady, marking his belief.

"Thanks, uncle." Harry said when he pulled back.

Severus's left brow arched. "For what?"

Harry shrugged with one shoulder. "Just for everything. Mostly for being you."

Severus tried to push away the gratitude with an eye-roll, but Harry spotted a faint, ghost of a smile hanging by his lip. He pointed to the door and said, "Away with you, brat, so I can finish my work in peace."

With a grin lighting his face, Harry left.

Monday rolled by and unfortunately the animosity from the other houses didn't dim. If anything it grew stronger, no thanks to the ridiculous article Rita Skeeter wrote about him, painting him as some helpless, whiny brat who threw himself into danger to receive attention as some sort of way to fill in the hole left from his parents' death. It was a bit alarming to walk out of the common room, into the halls, and be hurled with hundreds of nasty glares and venom-laced comments. But Harry stuck to Severus's advice and held his head high, letting the anger and hatred pass through him, refusing to let them think they or the stupid article gotten to him. He focused on his friends who stuck by him, huddled around him like a barrier as they walked down the halls, responding to the heated glares with their own sharp looks and smirks. More importantly he focused on the first task that was only a few weeks away.

Theo brought half a dozen books that focused on the last tournament to breakfast and handed them each a book to go through while they ate.

"Is there a chance that they might reuse past tasks?" Harry asked.

Theo shook his head, his eyes skimming through the page. "Statistically-speaking, slim to none. Less than ten percent. Logically and realistically, less than that amount. Spontaneity is part of the appeal of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Coming up with new, original ideas to get the blood rushing and adrenaline going."

While safely watching from the stands as the Champions go through those new, original ideas. Harry frowned and turned to the next page of the book. His reading was temporarily put on hold when a bright beam of light flashed in his eyes. Cursing from the brightness, he tried shielding his poor eyes as he turned over to Draco. "Could you dim the light of that thing down a few notches?"

A confused frown marred Draco's face that quickly changed to a smirk as he glanced down at the source of that blinding brightness. The big button plastered onto his chest that featured a picture of Harry zooming through the air on his broom like a bullet, clad in his Quidditch uniform, eyes narrowed, face set in absolute concentration. Above him, glowing in bright green, were the words,  **HARRY POTTER:**   **HOGWARTS TRUE CHAMPION**. Draco spent most of the weekend making the buttons and presented them this morning as they met up for breakfast, passing them out to every Slytherin who had the button pinned to their chest.

"Fret not, Potter. I have a special one I made just for you."

Draco reached into his bag and handed him a button. It was the same as all the others with the picture of Harry flying on his broom. Except when the button was placed in Harry's hands, a dark green mist came over the button, deteriorating the picture into an ugly, almost-deformed image of Harry that practically melted before his eyes. The words above changed, flashing  **POTTER STINKS**  in neon red.

"Very funny." Harry practically yelled over the laughter of his friends, elbowing a snickering Draco away.

"Glad you think so." Draco winked.

"Prat!"

"Mail call!" Blaise announced as a swarm of owls flooded into the room, landing either packages or themselves onto the tables.

Draco's owl, Lorelle, came in with Aunt Cissa's care basket for them overflowing with a variety of muffins, cupcakes, and treats. Hedwig came back with a letter. Harry was a bit disappointed to see that it wasn't from Sirius, but his spirits did lift when he saw the familiar Malfoy seal on the envelope.

Draco swallowed down a mouthful of pumpkin muffin and gestured towards the letter. "Open it."

Offering Hedwig a piece of bacon, Harry broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

_Boys,_

_First off all, it seems you once again found yourselves in quite a bind. While it didn't beat last year's timing, I must say this latest mishap is a record of its own, given the significance of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the dangers that come with it._

_For the record, Harry, Narcissa and I don't believe you entered your name into the cup anymore than Severus announcing that he's retiring from teaching to become a Hawaiian hulu dancer._

Neither boy could hold down his snickers.

_And, Draco, I can already feel your eyes skimming through the letter for more important matters regarding Harry's involvement in the tournament. I came across interesting information that will prove to be helpful to you two. However, it is information that is better exchanged face to face than on paper. Therefore Severus arranged for you to return to the Manor this Friday evening for dinner so we can carry on with this conversation. I expect you both there at seven on the dot._

_Until then, I urge you boys, particularly you, Harry, to be on constant guard._

_All the best_

_-Lucius_

Draco frowned. He was likely expecting Lucius to say he had found a loophole in the contract and managed to pull Harry out. Harry wasn't as discouraged. While Lucius didn't mention any holes in the contract they could work through, he did say he came across information that could be useful.

Harry lightly placed his hand over Draco's. "It's fine. Like you said, if there's anyone who can find a way, its uncle."

The left side of Draco's mouth lifted up, but the smile grew as he laced their fingers together. Nodding towards the letter, he said, "You know what to do."

Harry nodded and laid the letter over the lit candle on their table, watching a flame lick the tip of the paper and spread like a virus, eating up the paper. When he was younger, he was taken back by the Malfoys burning their letters at the table as if it was part of their routine for meals. Now years later, after living with them and getting roped into the letter-burning scheme, the foreign act became a habit, one that was as natural as lying a napkin across his lap before he ate. Or breathing.

As the letter burnt into ashes, Harry became aware of a set of eyes fixed on him. Expecting it to be one of the Gryffindors or Ron, he rolled his eyes before he looked up.

Seated at the Ravenclaw table, in the center of the Beauxbatons girls, was Fleur Delacour, another Champion he'd be competing against. She watched him, her blue eyes bright with curiosity and fascination. A smile shaped her petal-pink lips as Harry met her gaze.

Unsure how to respond, Harry waved at her. It seemed like the right move to make since amusement sparked in her eyes, but a low growl hissing beside him hinted that it might not have been the brightest move.

Draco's face was fixed into a nasty sneer, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you she wasn't your favorite person at the retreat." Harry guessed. When Madame Maxine came in with her students and Fleur twirled her way into the Great Hall, it wasn't hard to connect the dots and figure out she was the same Fleur Delacour who mentored Draco at his summer retreat. The flabbergasted expression that knocked onto Draco's face, tightening into annoyance, as she made in her way was a big enough clue.

"Let me put it to you this way. If I conducted a list of everything I hated about that God-forsaken place, Delacour would be featured in the top ten."

Almost as if she could hear them, Fleur's eyes gleamed in laughter. Her smile grew brighter as she glanced between them, taking in their joint hands. Draco's scowl grew tighter as did his grip on Harry. Harry grew more confused as he looked back and forth between the two, sensing there was something deeper lurking underneath.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry wasn't the only one busy. Hermione was just as occupied. Half of the long hours she spent at the library were to help Harry and Theo find more information about the tournament, the other half towards research for a campaign she was launching.

"What exactly is  _spew_?" Harry asked as they met up at the library the next afternoon.

"Not spew. S.P.E.W," she corrected. "Stands for Society for Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Um-"

Hermione cut off his question before he could even ask it. "You remember how Mr. Crouch treated his house-elf? The poor thing was terrified out of her mind during the attack and the man was screaming at her because she left her post."

Oh boy. Harry remembered that. He also remembered that when Mr. Weasley had brought them back to the Burrow, Hermione was no longer shaking in fear from the mark. She was shaking in anger. She spent the rest of the night ranting about the injustice that poor elf suffered. Ginny told Harry that Hermione was so disgusted by the idea of house-elves, she refused to eat a bit of the Welcoming feast after finding out they were responsible for the food, among other things.

"Do you know that I looked up almost every historical book in the library and not a single one talked about house-elves! Despite the fact they're the setting foundation of the wizarding world."

"Hermione-"

"I mean  _honestly?!_  They do so much and are given no credit. Worse, they're treated-treated with no respect at all. Why, it's no different than slavery in the muggleworld."

Harry wondered how the hell they went from talking about possible strategies for the tournament to house-elves and their rights. Feeling a migraine coming on, he rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Hermione, the difference between the two was the fact Africans were forced into it against their will. They were capable of much more, wanted more, but were held down for centuries due to prejudice and hatred. House-elves aren't forced into servitude. They don't even see it as servitude. They see it as a joy. They like serving."

Hermione shook her head, her bushy hair whipping around her face. "They'll like it even more when they recognize their rights. Be paid for their hard work."

Harry recalled the time he was six and Dobby managed to fix up his stuffed lion, Leo, whose front leg was falling apart. He paid the house-elf with the shiny, bright coin his dad had given him for his kindness and Dobby shrieked in horror as if he was handed a bomb, begging over and over not to be fired. Harry was tempted to tell Hermione about that, but knew from the mad gleam in her eye that it'd only be a waste of breath. Once Hermione's mind was set on an idea, it was hard to change it.

So instead Harry asked, "How many people are part of this movement of yours?"

"Well…at the moment two-" She then brightened as she looked over at him, reaching into her bag and pulling out a S.P.E.W she pinned on his sweater. "Now three."

"Um-"

"Ron can be the treasurer and you the sectary. I already have tons of ideas on how we get the word out. Maybe you can convince some of your house-mates to join the cause."

Harry thought of his friends, each of them who had house-elves waiting on them hand and foot joining the movement. One ran by Hermione who didn't have the greatest fan club among the Slytherins.

"Speaking of Ron, I ran into him on the way here."

"Hmm," Harry mumbled, focusing on his book.

"He's really upset. Has been since Thursday."

Upset wasn't the word Harry would use to describe the dirty looks Ron shot him in the Great Hall and during the few classes they had together. It definitely wasn't the word he used to describe the cold-shoulder treatment he was giving him.

The frown set on Harry's face mirrored the one shaping Hermione's mouth. "Harry, you know as well as I do that Ron can have his moments, but he means well. He always does. He's just hurt and really needs his friends." She stared pointedly at him.

"What he needs is a foot up his arse."

Hermione tugged at Harry's collar, forcing him to turn back to her. Her nose crinkled as if she swallowed a sour lemon, her eyes frowning in disapproval. "Can you honestly tell me that you don't want to make amends? That you don't miss him?"

Times like this made Harry wonder what life would be like if he stuck to family tradition and went to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. Would he be even more hurt by Ron's silence, his anger, his accusations? Would he decide to make the first move? Try to reach out to him? The thing was he did miss Ron. He could be a jerk, but he was also a fun friend. The problem was Harry had other things to worry about, more important things like the tournament and the first task that quickly approaching, the strange dream he had about Voldemort, and who might have slipped his name into the goblet. Ron and his wounded ego would have to wait.

"Harry?" Hermione called, railing his train of thought off its course. "You need to understand. Ron has always been overshadowed. By his brothers, by Ginny, even by you. He's known as the other Weasley boy or good friend to the Boy Who Lived. He was hoping to find a way to enter the tournament so the spotlight could be on him for once. Now you have it and-"

" _Have it?!_ " Harry repeated. "You make it seem that I wanted this to happen."

"I'm not saying that!" Hermione protested. "All I'm saying is you should put yourself in his shoes and try to understand how difficult-"

_Difficult?!_  He was the one forced into the tournament and yet somehow Ron was the one who being shortchanged? Anger swept through Harry as he stood up from his chair and began packing his things. "Difficult, right," he spat. "Because I wouldn't know anything about having a difficult life."

"Harry, that's not what I meant-"

He cut her off. "Ron should've known better. He should have trusted me not to do something like that. Believed me when I said I didn't put my name in the stupid cup. Instead he let his jealousy get the better of him and said some really stupid things- _hurtful_  things! But _I'm_  the one that's suppose to apologize? No, forget it!"

"But Harry-"

"You know what?" Harry whirled over to Hermione. "Do me a favor and pass this message onto Ron. Tell him if and when he pulls his head out of his arse, grows a pair and a brain, he knows where to find me."

"Harry!"

He was already out the door, through listening to any more excuses. He let his feet lead the way, walking over the bridge, through the corridor, and into the courtyard. He could barely make out the snickers and whispers directed at him over the loud roaring of blood boiling in his head.

Maybe he was a bit hard on Hermione. After all she was only trying to make peace. But it was ridiculous for her to suggest he be the one to apologize. He had no absolutely nothing to apologize for. Ron was the one who accused him of cheating his way in. He was one who called Harry a gloried attention-seeker. He was one acting like a big baby. As for having a difficult life?

Harry dismissed the idea with a headshake and a scoff. No matter how tough things were for Ron at home, they weren't difficult. He wasn't the one who saw his parents die right in front of him and remember the gruesome screams of his mother as she was killed, a sound that crept into Harry's dreams from time to time, turning them into nightmares. He wasn't the one who had a madman hunting him down, haunting him. He wasn't the underage champion who had to compete against three other opponents who already had years of experience on their side. He wasn't-

"Why so tense, Potter?"

The call of his name cut through his thoughts like a knife. He turned over to the right. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were lounging by the oak tree, enjoying the nice autumn weather. His eyes traveled upward where Draco was perched on top of that tree, smirking down at Harry.

"There's a bet going around the castle, you see, on how long you'll last in the tournament. I say ten minutes, though I might be being a bit generous. " Draco hopped off the branches and landed perfectly on his feet. "Most of the students seem to disagree. The popular vote is five."

Harry was aware eyes were on them, but he was only focused on Draco and his smirking eyes. His earlier annoyance from the library melted away as he walked over to his best friend, his brows arching lifting up as well as the right corner of the mouth. "Is that so?"

"Can't say I blame them. Given your fainting spells last year," If it wasn't for the lightheartedness in Draco's eyes, Harry would have mistaken the tease as a taunt. "And your delicate little features, you project an image that's more meek than strong. Almost like a delicate, soft little kitten." Draco cocked his head to the side, his smirk sharpening. "Now I'm wondering if I was being overly-generous with that ten-minute bet."

Harry walked forward until they were standing face to face. "Well, that's nine more than you would've lasted, Malfoy."

"Oh really?"

"Really," Harry confirmed with a smirk of his own. "Anytime you care to test me on that, or see for yourself how  _delicate_  I can be, you know where to find me."

With that said, Harry spun on his heel and walked off, not even turning back as he heard footsteps behind him.

"Why wait then when we can settle this right-"

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

A bang went off like a bullet blasting from a gun. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Moody hobbling down the steps, the tip of his wand as well as his heated glare, pointed at the white ferret standing in the exact spot Draco was in a second ago-

_Wait a minute!_  Harry's jaw dropped. Oh dear God.

"Never attack an opponent when his back is turned!" the retired Auror barked.

Draco the ferret followed the motion of Moody's wand. When Moody raised it, Draco hovered in the air, squealing frantically, swinging his arms and legs wildly. When he made crazy zig-zags, Draco jerked in every direction, shooting up and down, moving side to side. When Moody lowered his wand, Draco was dropped right into Crabbe's trousers, setting off a round of loud laughter in the courtyard.

"Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" he screamed, squirming in place, his hands beating down at his legs.

Goyle tried to help digging Draco out, but a painful yelp later, his fingers were scarred, blood leaking from the broken skin. Harry would have offered aid except he was too stunned by the scene to move. Blaise was a more ideal choice since he was closer to them, but he was too busy laughing his guts out as he was sprawled on the floor.

A few more painful bites later, Goyle managed to extract Draco from Crabbe's trousers. Once he was out, Draco leaped from his hands and tried to make a run for it. Moody refused to let him go so easily.

"Oh no you don't!" He raised his wand high and twirled it around, causing Draco to whirl faster and faster like a spinning top, going so fast he became a blur of white. "I have half a mind to grind your bones into Yorkshire pudding!"

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall raced over to them. "Is that a student?"

"Technically it's a ferret." he dryly remarked.

"We do not use transfiguration as a form of punishment. Change him back at once!"

Moody muttered something underneath his breath but gave into McGonagall's order. He brought his wand down as if he were delivering the finishing bang to a drum.

Draco landed onto the ground with a hard bang, streaks of white covering his body. When the streaks faded, Harry's best friend was back into his normal form. Dirt clung onto his body like a second skin, streaking his askew hair. His face was flushed bright pink and eyes hard, cold slits as he rose from the ground and glared at Moody. "My father will hear about it!"

"Will he also hear about that perky little arse of yours, Malfoy?" a Hufflepuff teased, setting off a round of snickers.

Draco's eyes dropped at the exact moment Harry's did, both widening as they took in Draco's lack of clothes. He was nude as the day as he was born with patches of dirt covering the private parts.

Harry took off his robes, raced over to Draco, threw it over his body, and hurried him into the castle, ignoring the bewildered stares and snickers that increased to laughter. Including Blaise's.

"I am going to  _kill_  him!" Draco swore.

"Who? Moody or Blaise?"

"Both!"

The boys took the quickest route to their dorm. Once they were in, Harry made sure the doors were sealed shut. Draco let out a storm of curses as he dug through the drawers for clothes.

"When I'm through with that handicapped, Captain Hook wannabe lunatic, I'm going to do use his leg as a baseball bat to knock Zabini's snickering face clean off his body."

"Last I checked Captain Hook didn't have a bad eye-" Harry turned back and was frozen stiff.

Draco's back was to him, revealing his backside that was still bare as he tried hopping into a fresh pair of trousers, flashing glimpses of his rear that bounced with the movement, his hips that were as pale and smooth as the rest of him.

Oblivious to Harry staring, Draco said, "Maybe not, but that lunatic is just as mad."

Harry's mouth was opened but not a single sound came out. His eyes were glued to his back, taking great notice of the ass-crack peeking out from his trousers, those flashes of hips that grew less and less as they were being swallowed by the clothes that caused intense warmth to slither and twist in his stomach like a snake. Warmth that heightened to massive heat as Draco slightly bent forward to fix his pants, bringing attention to the curve of his arse. A strange sensation came over his fingers, a tingling that shook like an itch as Draco bent lower, making the curves of his body more prominent. Harry balled his hands into tight fists to keep them under control.

He was finally released from the trance as Draco straightened up and looked over at him, but the heat spread not only to his stomach but also to his face. To his shock, Draco wasn't surprised by the staring, at least not by much. If anything he looked amused.

"See something you like, Potter?" There was something lingering underneath that teasing tone, a drawl that made the heat swirling in Harry's stomach lick his insides.

"You wish." he replied. "You're better off taking a shower. Merlin knows how much dirt you collected from your joyride."

"Too much for my liking." Draco headed over to the bathroom but on his way there, as he passed by Harry, his fingers brushed against a sensitive spot on his lower back, making breathing difficult for him.

Harry was able to draw air again when the bathroom door closed. He was able to release it as he heard the muffled sounds of running water. But even then, he was still shaking, his face still burning, thoughts still burning as the warmth coiled in his stomach twisted even more from images of pale skin and curves.


	30. Veela, Spiders, and Dragons-Oh My

Harry remembered once Remus suggested he take up journaling, owning dozens of his own, saying that writing was the best mediation for stress. Sometimes, not even for stress. Just for fun or relaxation. Harry at first was hesitant about the idea. As much as he loved to read stories and their beautiful words, he wasn't too sure about trying to make his own. After all, it was one thing to write down pages and pages for school. It was another to write down something that wasn't meant to be turned in.

However, on a whim, he decided to take one of the journals Draco bought for him to the library. At first he spent his free period combing through more past tasks for the tournament, but his eyes growing tired reading the vast list of dangerous animals used in the tasks from mutated-hybrid lions, giant squids, and sharks and hearing the fates of Champions that perished in the tournament or lived long enough to recap every horrified ordeal. He needed something to take his mind off things, so he switched from the book to the journal. In the beginning, it was mostly phases and sentences that were random and spoke of nothing, words set here and there, but as he turned over to the second page, the words started to produce, expanding paragraphs and then soon to more pages.

Harry was so engrossed in the words, of watching his thoughts coat the fresh pages with black ink, that he almost lost track of time. By the time he looked up, he realized there were less than fifteen minutes to get to Potions. Snake or not, godson (in a way) or not, Severus didn't appreciate tardiness of any kind.

He gathered up his things and hightailed it to class. He was too busy trying to stuff his textbook into his bag and getting the damn zipper to close to notice someone approaching him. It wasn't until his shoulder knocked into another that he was forced to look up.

Fleur smiled down at him, her deep blue eyes bright with amusement. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a few students walking by stop in their tracks to stare, gazes locked on the beautiful girl standing in front of Harry. Too bad for them, she was focused on someone else.

"'ello 'arry." she said.

"Hi." he replied.

"I feel so silly. Madame gave us maps of the school but I keep getting lost." She gave a slight shrug and somehow the simple gesture was almost as fluid as a dance step. "My friends wanted to meet at the Great Hall for brunch. Would you be so kind to escort me there?"

"Um…" The look in her eyes made it clear that Fleur never heard a refusal a day in her life and today wouldn't be that day. Harry did quick math in his head. He still had about ten minutes till class, and the Potions classroom wasn't too far from the Great Hall-at least as long as he took the quick route. "Sure."

Fleur's smile dazzled in delight. Harry returned the smile and held out his arm to her. Surprise and approval gleamed in her eyes at the gesture as she linked her arm through his. "Such a gentleman."

Harry tried to brush aside the words with a shrug, but he could feel heat stirring in his cheeks.

Some people stared bewildered as they walked by, most of their shocked stares cast on Fleur. Harry was relieved to have the spotlight focused on someone else, although the flare of the light was softer compared to his own. Fleur, however, paid no mind to it.

" _On pourrait penser que quelqu'un ait appris à ces enfants qu'il est impoli de fixer les gens comme ça?_ " she commented.

_You'd think someone would teach these children it's impolite to stare_. It was a statement Harry completely agreed with. Someone probably did but they chose to ignore it. He told her as much, saying, " _Ça a surement été fait, mais ils ont choisi de ne pas écouter._ "

_Along with personal space_ , Harry silently added.

Fleur was taken back by the fact he understood what she was saying and responded back in her native tongue, but from the lift of her smile, it seemed to be a pleasant surprise. "You know French?"

"A bit." French was part of the pureblood lessons Aunt Cissa made sure both he and Draco succeeded in. He knew the language, could read and write in it, but Harry wouldn't go as far as to call himself an expert. Draco was the more fluent one, having an ear for language and able to speak back perfectly, nailing the accent just right while Harry was a bit clumsy with the diction and vowels.

Fleur's delight grew.

It dawned on him that while he knew most of Hogwarts were against him, he didn't know about the other schools. Cedric was stunned when he found out he wasn't the only Champion representing their school. One of Victor's brows rose as he gripped his hands tighter. A strange look came over Fleur's eyes, a look that wasn't exactly intimidating but definitely thorough, as if she was looking into him.

The same look that sparked in her eyes as she looked at him now. He opened his mouth to state his innocence, but Fleur beat did him to it. "I know you are not guilty, 'arry."

Harry blinked, stunned. It was one thing to hear it from Draco and Severus. It was another to hear it from a competitor. "I-"

"Your 'eartbeat said it all," Fleur explained. "I was almost scared zat it would fall from your chest."

His heartbeat? Harry knew it was strong during the goblet fiasco. It pounded so loud, so hard, he was sure it'd pop out. But compared to the screams that were going on in the Great Hall, his heartbeat might as well have been a whisper. So how did Fleur hear-Harry got his answer as he looked into her eyes and saw a pale, ice-blue sheer flash through them. "Your Veela senses."

"Very good." she smiled. "Most peopol don't see ze connection until ze wings appear."

Harry had a feeling it wasn't just the wings that hinted at her heritage. There was a strange aura that clung onto her, something other than magic buzzing around her body. The way she held herself, the spark in her eyes and the dazzle of her smile, how grace and elegance gleamed from every step she took and every move she made. She reminded him of the Veelas he saw at the World Quidditch Cup, only less vicious. "Can't take all the credit. A friend may have handed me a clue." Or let the secret out early.

Fleur's left brow draw slightly higher, a hint of amusement leaking onto her smile. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded.

"I was his peer guide at ze retreat. He was very…" Fleur struggled to find the right word that wouldn't be too offensive. "Interesting."

Harry had to bite down his smirk. Interesting was a polite word most people used for Draco. Irritating was another one, said on a mild day. As for the bad? Well, they were the special type of words that shouldn't be repeated in front of a lady.

"You two are close." A statement, not a question.

Harry nodded. "For as long as I can remember."

"Seem very fond of each other."

A steak of warmth flared his face, stirring in his stomach as he remembered how Fleur caught them holding hands, an act that was simply natural to them but may come across as strange to an outsider.

"Best friends." Again, another statement.

Harry nodded back and took note that the strange look glowed brighter, the all-too amusing, almost-knowing glint reminding him of Aunt Cissa.

"I always love stories of ze childhood friends," she said. "Nozing more beautiful."

Unsure how to respond, Harry gave a weak nod. He suppressed a relieved sigh as he noticed the Great Hall was only a few feet away.

" _Merci_ , 'arry." She unwrapped her arm from his and pecked him on both cheeks, the scent of lilac clouding his nostrils. "Draco is very lucky to have you."

Slightly baffled by the statement, Harry pulled back. Fleur's odd smile remained on her face.

"And you him."

"Um…" Harry said, finally popping out an awkward, "Thank you."

With that said, he left for Potions, feeling Fleur's eyes oddly-amused eyes watching him until he made a turn around the corner and disappeared from her sight.

There was a crowd gathered outside the classroom door, most of them Slytherins wearing the  **Hogwarts True Champion**  buttons, carrying copies of  _the Prophet_ , laughing at the latest story. Draco took notice of Harry and ran towards him, a mischievous smile pulling his lips.

"Have you read the latest-" Draco paused and sniffed the air around him, the smile vanishing from his face as his eyes hardened, narrowing into cold slits. "Why the hell do you smell like Delacour?"

Before Harry could answer, Pansy was by their side, pointing to the left. "Here comes Weasley."

The snickers among the Slytherins heightened as they parted the hall for Ron and Hermione to pass through. Some didn't even bother hiding their snickers, and those who tried to suppress (rather poorly) their chuckles only end up laughing harder. Draco's momentarily annoyance with Fleur and her scent being on Harry was pushed aside as he strolled over to Ron, a smirk slashing across his face. Harry stayed close by, sensing a fight was bound to start.

"Extra, extra," Draco happily cried, waving the paper. "Read all about it."

Ron snatched it from his hands and flipped it open, eyes skimming over the article, narrowing more and more as he read, hands shaking. Harry hadn't been able to the paper himself but had a good guess as to what it could be about, if the picture on the front cover had anything to say about it. A flustered Mr. Weasley was standing across from a man dressed in formal robes with a dumbstruck expression on his face. The Minister was trying to pull the man away while Mr. Weasley was struggling to hold onto his wand that was falling apart in his hands, beams of energy shooting from the splintered cracks. Mrs. Weasley was trying to shield them all from the reporters' eyes, flinging her sweater at their faces.

"Apparently," Draco grinned wickedly like the cat that caught himself the canary, his raised voice bouncing through the walls, reaching people at the far end. "The Ministry is so desperate to clean up their mess, they'll hire just about anyone. Including a moronic buffoon whose failed oblivation spell hit not only several Ministry employees but also an important ambassador who can't even remember his own name."

Ron's hands weren't just shaking; his entire body was quivering in anger. His face was almost as red as his hair.

Draco ate it all up like cake. "Perhaps your daddy, Weasley, should stick to inspecting rubber ducks for Muggle studies and leave important matters such as this to the professionals. Or at least those who knew how to hold a wand."

"Shut your face, Malfoy!" Ron had to scream over the roaring laughter of their peers.

"Tell us, Weaslebee, are you expecting another sibling or does your mother suffer difficulty putting down the fork?"

Hermione latched onto Ron's arm to keep him from charging over to Draco. His face was a mix of embarrassment and anger, as if he didn't know whether he wanted to crawl into a hole or knock every tooth out of Draco's mouth. He shook off Hermione's hold and snarled at him, "At least my mum's not some Death Eater's whore, which is more than what I can say about yours! Tell us, ferret-face. How wide did she have to spread her legs to get those diamonds of hers?"

"RON!" Harry yelled, using half his strength to hold a fuming Draco back, the other half trying not to give into the great urge of hexing the boy into oblivion for that comment.

Draco, stronger and angrier, gave into the urge, taking out his wand and shooting it at Ron. " _Densavego!"_

" _Funnuclus!"_

Jets of light shot from both their wands, hit each other midair, and ricocheted at different angles-Ron's hit Goyle in the face, Draco's hit Hermione. Goyle screamed and brought his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were sprouting from the skin. Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!" Harry cried.

Ron turned over and dragged Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth-already larger than average-were growing at an alarming rate. She was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, towards her chin. Panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this commotion about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Severus had arrived. The students shouted out various explanations but he silenced them with a glare and a pointed finger aimed at Draco. "Explain."

"Weasley attacked me, sir-"

"He started it!" Ron protested.

"And he hit Goyle! Look!"

Severus examined poor Goyle whose face now resembled something found in the pages of a textbook that covered poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Severus said calmly.

Crabbe escorted him there, knocking into Ron's shoulder on the way and shooting him a look that promised vengeance later.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. " _Look!_ "

He forced Hermione to show Severus her teeth. She was doing her best to hide them with her hands, through that proved to quite a challenge as they now grew past her collar. Behind him, Harry heard Pansy and her friends bursting into laughter. He could picture her leaning against Daphne or holding onto Theo for support to keep from falling over.

Severus looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Harry's mouth dropped to the ground at the same time Draco's lifted into a cutting smirk.

Hermione staggered back as the laughter grew louder, as if the words were a punch to the gut. Tears filling her eyes, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of the sight.

"You slimy, blood-sucking leech-" Severus cut off Ron's rant with a cool glare.

"Let's see," he said in his silkiest voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor for provoking a student, fifty for dueling on school grounds, and five for verbal assault on a teacher."

"I didn't assault-"

"Which makes a grand total of sixty-five points lost from Gryffindor, along with detention tonight. Now, Weasley, I suggest you hold that tongue,  _get inside_  or it will be a week's worth."

Severus strode into the room with most of the students trailing behind him including a reluctant Ron who looked half-tempted to use the same hex that boiled Goyle's face on the Potions Master. Harry, on the other hand, stayed behind, staring at the spot where Hermione ran off to.

His heart went out to her. Hermione has always been sensitive about her teeth. He imagined having teeth like those and dentists for parents weren't the easiest combination to live with. Now, it was worse with Draco's spell turning them into a dental nightmare. Add that to what Severus said-Harry winced, remembering. That was a low blow even for him.

"We have class." Harry didn't realize Draco was still standing there until he spoke.

"Yea, but-" Daphne stepped forward and offered a small smile.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Spells like that don't last long."

"The same," Draco said. "won't be said for you if Severus found out you skipped class."

Another good point. If there was one thing Severus hated more than tardiness, it was absence.

_I'll check on her after class_ , Harry promised as he followed his friends into the classroom.

To his annoyance, Ron glared daggers at them-mostly at Harry and Draco-as they walked in and took their seats. He whispered to Seamus in a non-discreet voice that was loud enough for Harry to hear up front, "Lousy, slimy git of a teacher and lousy, slimy snakes. Why am I not surprised?"

Draco clenched his hands into fists, a growl ripping through his teeth. Yet it was Harry who turned around, rage swelling inside him like a bruise, and cut Ron into ribbons with his sharp glare.

"Better a slimy snake who knows the meaning of  _loyalty_ ," Harry emphasized, making sure his words hit their mark. "then a spineless, cowardly cub."

"Well said, Potter." Draco smirked.

Luckily for them, before another duel broke out, Severus called the class to order and explained the task at hand. Today, they'd be creating a remedy for people suffering from insomnia. He said that in order for them to create the antidote, they must first conduct a potion that would trigger the disorder, explaining they'd need to see how the disorder worked on the senses so they could create counterattacks against it. He implied that they might experiment the potion on test subjects, his eyes scanning over the Gryffindors as possible victims.

Poor Neville crouched down in his seat when Severus's eyes landed on him.

Harry was about to go to the back shelves for the ingredients until Draco volunteered to do it himself. It was a bit of a eyebrow-raiser since Harry was usually the one to get the ingredients while Draco set up the cauldron, but he didn't question, figuring there was nothing wrong with a change in routine every now and then. As Draco went to the back, Harry pulled out the cauldron and set it on the table. He then took out his textbook and his notes, laying them side by side, and looked through the process of creating the potion.

Draco returned minutes later with the ingredients, setting them down. "Ready to start?"

"Almost," Harry mumbled. "I'm just stuck on something."

"On what?" Draco peered over his shoulder.

"According to the book, we need to fill the cauldron halfway through with lukewater, then cobra saliva. The notes say saliva first, then a quarter of hot water."

Draco took a moment to figure out the answer. "For now, since the book isn't always accurate, go with the notes."

"Salvia and a quarter water it is then."

Draco smiled and gently knocked his shoulder into him.

For a few minutes the sounds of cutting, stirring, and whispered chattering filled the room. The boys had to read over each step of the procedure twice to make sure they weren't making any mistakes. Harry was happy to see their potion was coming along well.

"Hey, Ron, are you okay? You look kinda pale."

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry looked up. Neville stood beside Ron who leaned over their cauldron, frozen as a statue. Color drained from his face that was being fanned by the fumes billowing from their cauldron, his eyes widening into saucers.

"Are you alright?" Neville took a step closer and placed his hand on Ron's shoulder.

That seemed to be the trigger point for Ron. He stared at the hand as if it were death itself, slapped it away, and screamed at the top of his lungs, " _SPIDER!_ "

Everyone stopped working and looked over to the back. Draco calmly set his stirring rod down, slung an arm around Harry's neck, and leaned into him, a smirk touching his lips.

"Ron, calm down-" Unfortunately for Neville, Ron wasn't in the mood for listening. With one swing of his textbook to the face, Ron sent him to the floor.

Ron jumped over Neville's fallen form to the center of the room, moving around in a circle. His eyes wide in alarm and horror, body jerking frantically as if he were going into shock, hands furiously patting and dusting off his clothes and face and head as if the army of fire ants were crawling on his skin.

" _Get them off! Get them off! Get them off!_ " he screamed.

"It's official," Theo declared. "Weasley has finally lost it."

"Well, he definitely lasted longer than I thought he would." Draco commented.

"And now he's giving a show!" Pansy shrieked in horror as Ron unbuttoned his robes and kicked them aside, still screaming about spiders invading his body, then his fingers dropped to the buttons of his shirt, quickly working to undo them, flashing hints of ghastly-pale skin. She covered her eyes with her hands. "Urgh, I'm blind! Make it stop!"

Her answers were answered in the form of Severus who strode over to Ron, his displeasing scowl growing tighter and tighter. "Weasley, you will cease and desist this nonsense at once or so help me-"

It all happened in slow motion.

One second, Ron turned over to look at Severus, his frantic eyes roaring in fear and panic, as if he were looking into the eyes of the spider king himself. The next, Ron's hands were placed against Severus's chest and pushed hard, sending the man flying across the room, knocking into a table. The collision of the shove caused Neville's cauldron that was still brewing over the fire to leap into the air. The cauldron turned upside-down as it made its way down, the potion spilling, pouring onto Severus's head before the cauldron fell on top of him.

Everything came to a complete halt as the cauldron fell onto Severus's head, the potion spilling onto his black robes and the floor, painting them with hot pink goo that reminded Harry of melted bubble gum.

Ron was the only one brave enough or distracted about to move, shrieking on and on about bloody spiders that were all over him before he ran out of the room. As for everyone one? No one dared move, or even breathe. They were frozen in their chairs, eyes glued to Severus whose head was buried underneath the cauldron, steaks of pink goo running down his clothes, gathering into a puddle at his feet.

It must have been seconds, minutes, even close to an hour before Severus finally lifted the cauldron off his head, releasing the last stream of pink that showered his face. He set the cauldron on the table and wiped the goo off his face, flickering splotches of it onto the ground.

"Five hundred points," he said in a low, tight voice that quivered in barely-suppressed seething rage. "from Gryffindor."

" _What?!_ " Seamus bellowed, the outrage cry that broke through their stunned silence, acting as a match that sparked life back into the room, explosive protests from the Gryffindors that was almost as loud as the uncontrollable laughter bursting from the Slytherins.

"I do hope you lot get the chance to thank your moronic housemate," Severus growled. "Because each and every one of you will be serving a week's detention, starting tomorrow."

That only made the Slytherins laugh harder while the Gryffindors cursed and screamed at Severus, causing them to lose even more points. Blaise laughed so hard that he nearly fell out from his stool. Theo tried to his flushed face by burying it in a book, but Harry could see his body shaking from the chuckles. Draco simply threw his head back and laughed without an ounce of shame, leaning against Harry for support. Harry could feel his own insides aching from so much laughing and tried to breathe, but each poor attempt led to more laughter.

"What-what-" he rasped, taking in a deep breath and trying to get the question out. "What did you do, Draco?"

Draco placed a hand against his chest in an innocent  _who, me?_ gesture. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about."

"Really? The look on your face says otherwise. Especially given the smile you're wearing screaming  _sometimes I'm so clever, I amaze even myself_."

Draco tried to play coy, but even he knew when to throw in the towel. Even then, the wicked smile stuck on his face. "I may have slipped a few spider legs into Weasley's potion while I was getting our things."

Ron already made a big mistake leaning over the cauldron while it was heating up, exposing himself to the fumes that weaken the senses, over activating the frontal lobes of the brain, making the person see hallucinations, courtesy of the cobra saliva. Add that to the fact that Ron already held a deep fear of spiders and their parts were added to the potion-" _You had him seeing spiders?!_ "

Draco nodded, all too pleased with himself. "Oh himself, on other people, etc."

_Oh dear God._

Draco slung an arm around Harry and reeled him in. "That's what happens to spineless, disloyal cubs who forsaken their friends in their time of need."

A small part of Harry should have been appalled that Draco would go as far to use Ron's own fear against him for revenge, that his little stunt made Severus part of the collateral damage. But the fact Draco did it for him, because of what Ron said after his name was called out…it, well, it was hard to be mad.

Harry shook his head and rolled his halfheartedly, a smile tugging his lips. "You're crazy."

Draco shrugged. "Which is just another word for brilliant."

Harry knocked into his shoulder.

Later on that night, Harry and Draco arrived at Severus's quarters to use the floo. Despite his promise, Harry wasn't able to meet with Hermione. He wasn't able to find her at all. Neville said she locked herself in her room and refused to come out till her teeth went back to normal. It seemed to be the same plan Ron had in mind, making himself scarce. At the end of Potions, practically everyone in the castle heard of his spider fiasco.

Severus was still suffering from that fiasco with dry bits of pink goo still plastered onto his face, streaks coloring his hair.

"If I as so much as hear a snicker," he warned as they came through the door, the sight of their astonished, amused faces curving his face into a scowl. "came out from either one of your mouths, you'll be joining the Gryffindors in detention."

Harry and Draco traded a look, sucked in a breath, and clamped their mouths shut.

Severus rolled his eyes.

When Harry was sure a snicker or-God forbid-another laugh came out from his mouth, he asked, "You're not coming with us?"

Severus shook his head. "Too much work to be done and plans to work out." A dark glimmer sparked in his black eyes. "Some of them for a certain little Weasely the next time I see him."

He grabbed a handful of powder and tossed it onto the fireplace, saying, "Malfoy Manor."

"By the way, Uncle Sev," Draco said. "love the streaks. The pink really brings out your eyes."

Laughing, Harry pushed them into floo before Severus committed first-degree murder for the comment.

Lucius and Narcissa were already waiting for them in the living room, but to Harry's surprise there were other visitors invited for dinner. Sirius and Remus were standing close to the fireplace, smiles lightning their faces.

"Sirius! Remus!" Harry happily cried.

Sirius pulled him into a tight hug while Remus ruffled his hair. He arched an brow as he took in Harry's formal robes. "Geez, kiddo, I didn't know you were off to meet the Queen tonight."

"Very funny," Harry rolled his eyes, smiling just the same. "What are you guys doing here? I thought I wouldn't hear from you till next week."

Sirius shrugged. "Since I already knew you were coming here, thought I surprise you."

Harry's brow rose slightly as he glanced over at his aunt, then back to Sirius. "You two came together and decided this? Peacefully?"

"Well-" Remus stepped forward and cut him off.

"More so Narcissa and  _I_  made the arrangements while Sirius," he looked pointedly at him. "sat quietly by the corner and behaved himself."

"Har-bloody-har," he remarked. "Point being, we're here for food. More importantly, we're here for you, kiddo. This tournament business concerns us as much as it does you. And I plan to help you in any way I can."

Harry didn't bother asking the question. The unwavering look in both Paddy and Moony's eyes said it all, showing nothing but their complete fair in him, which touched him deeply.

Lucius directed them to the dining room. Harry took his usual spot next to Draco, though it was a bit odd to see Sirius sitting in Severus's chair while Dobby had to pull up an extra one for Remus. The house-elves filled their glasses with cool, sparkling water and placed a generous amount of salad onto their plates, setting a basket of breadsticks in the center of the table. Sirius's eyes grew more curious, more amused as more dishes were brought out.

"Geez," he said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think the Queen of England was stopping by."

"Sirius!" Harry hissed in warning.

He winked and took a sip of his drink, not even flinching as Remus dug his elbow into his side, warning him to behave.

"I'd hate to see what fits your idea of a proper dining setting, Sirius," Narcissa commented, her voice cooler than the water. "Paper plates and plastic utensils?"

"Why, dear cousin, don't be ridiculous," Sirius teased. "Why use a fork and spoon when we have our hands?" He held them up, wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

_Oh god_. Harry buried his face in his hands, missing the ice that frosted over his aunt's eyes as she glared at her cousin.

Luckily for Harry, as if God or Merlin or fate decided to have mercy on him, Sirius managed to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the meal, not saying another peek as more entrees were brought up and conversation began. He only spoke once ideas poured on what to do for Rita Skeeter for her annoying article on Harry. He was all up for biting her. Narcissa thought fighting fire with fire was much better, revealing she had connections that could dig up dirt on the reporter. Lucius's eyes narrowed and Remus's widened when Harry explained that Moody was recruited as the new DADA teacher, signs that warned him not to reveal how the first day of class went. He was still shivering from Moody's demonstration of the Unforgivable curses, the second one that terrified Neville, the last that churned Harry's stomach for the rest of the day. The fact that Lucius pointed out that the boys should take his distance from him only strengthened that point.

They all had themselves a laugh, though, as Harry recapped the adventures of Draco the bouncing ferret.

Draco kept quiet most of the night, other than sneering at Harry for bringing up the incident, elbowing him and demanding that uncle had the man removed from the school. Other than that, he was silent, tapping his foot impatiently against the chair leg, clearly anxious to get to the good part.

Almost as if he could read his thoughts, Lucius wiped his face with a napkin and laid his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together. "As both of you know, this wasn't a mere social call. Last week, I made a personal trip down to the Ministry to look over the contract."

The boys leaned forward in their chairs.

"Almost all contracts are ridden with loopholes," A scowl settled on his face. "Unfortunately, this particular one seems to be the exception." His scowl deepened. "It appears Minister Fudge has finally wised up."

Harry felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs. Draco swore viciously under his breath, glaring at his half-finished plate like it was the Minister's head.

Sirius lifted a brow, disbelief and annoyance flashing in his eyes. "You mean to say the great Lucius Malfoy couldn't bribe his way out of a contract? Pinch me, I'm dreaming."

Remus elbowed him in the side instead, warning him once more to behave.

"Fret not, boys," Narcissa assured, reaching for uncle's hand. "Lucius may not found an invalid clause in the contract, but he did find out, Harry, what you will be up against for the first task."

That restored a bit of Harry's fallen spirits. "What's the first task?" he asked as Dobby popped in to refill his glass. He thanked the tiny creature with a nod and took a sip.

"Dragons." Lucius stated calmly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Draco's jaw smacked onto the ground at the exact moment Harry spat out his drink.

" _Dragons?!"_


	31. Dance of the Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pray for me that I make it through this week and next's, with these final preps that are killing me-and annoying parents dancing across my last good nerve

It didn't seem possible. It shouldn't be possible, but somehow it just was. There was one other person who was just as nervous, just as terrified-ten times more even-as Harry was for the first task. The same other boy whose named was tied to the creatures his best friend would be facing.

Dragons.  _Dragons?!_ Of all the animals, all the creatures the Champions could compete against, the idiots conducting the tournament had to pick dragons.

If it wasn't for the fact that his jaw dropped when Father delivered the news, Draco would have spat out his drink alongside Harry.

A small part reminded him that he had no reason to fear, no reason to be anxious. Well, actually, that part was thrummed tight with the emotion, but reminded Draco that they had a plan. A plan Father, Mother, even Lupin and Black crafted along with them during the rest of dinner, comparing and contrasting Harry's best strengths, coming down to flying, and then centering the plan for Harry outsmarting the dragon based off that ability with the help of a summoning spell and his Firebolt. That Harry spent the rest of the following days leading up to the event practicing the spell over and over again, summoning trinkets from their room whenever they were in the common room to summoning books from the library while they were all the way down the giant's cottage. That Theo listed out all the vulnerable parts in a dragon should Harry need to strike, despite the stupid rule that stated the Champions could only use one spell for the task. That no one could fly like Harry could, the broom practically an extension of his body, flying so fast it was hard to keep track of him.

Despite the reminders, despite his efforts, fear and anxiety tugged at his insides like strings.

Draco came to find that time moved by quickly, particularly during moments when one needed it to slow down. It seemed like just yesterday it was Halloween night and the goblet was spitting out the names of the competitors, the next Father dropped the dragon-bomb on them during dinner, and now, today was November twenty-fourth.

The day of the first task.

At breakfast, he forced himself to shove down spoonfuls of sweetened oatmeal that tasted like cement in his mouth and sips of pumpkin juice to keep his throat from drying up. He glanced over at Harry, who was staring down at his full, untouched plate like it was the dragon.

"You should eat." He realized it was a bit hypocritical of him to say since he was also struggling to keep down his own meal. The difference between the two was the fact Draco could afford to skip breakfast, Harry couldn't.

"Not hungry." Harry mumbled. His hands were balled into tight fists.

"You should really eat, Harry." Granger clucked like an annoying mother hen.

For the thirteenth time, Draco wondered why the hell the insect was sitting at their table, the Slytherin table where Gryffindork cubs and pests weren't allowed. His eyes went to the boy sitting beside him, the same one who continued to stare at his plate. Ah, that was why. Granger wanted to join Harry at breakfast before he went out to offer support and last-minute advice. Before Draco could send her away (or preferably swat), Harry welcomed her in, ignoring Draco and the rest of the Slytherins' bewildered looks. Draco had to push through his shock to order Theo to make room for her on the other side. If he had to endure her presence, then it'd be done from the opposite side from him. More importantly, the opposite side of Harry with a table separating them.

The only sour note, though, was that the insect was seated directly across from him.

"I'm with Granger on this one, Harry," Theo said. "You're gonna need all the help you can get, and that includes caloric energy."

_Traitor_ , Draco scowled. He wasn't the only one who thought so. Pansy sent Theo, then Granger a look so harsh, he was surprised their skin hadn't melted off their bodies.

Their group effort, as nauseating as it was to witness, turned out to be helpful. A frowning Harry finally picked up the pumpkin muffin sitting on his plate and inhaled mouthful after mouthful. Draco was pleased to see he managed to get down five or so bites before he placed the muffin back on the plate.

"I don't know whether I'm more terrified of being picked first," he confessed. "or being picked last."

"Well," Theo said, rubbing his finger underneath his chin. "Being picked first does hold a certain advantage. First to start, first to end. Plus, it may play into favor with the judges since your performance would raise the bar for the other Champions."

"True," Granger said, angling her body towards him. "but being picked last is just as beneficial. Harry could see how the others handle their dragons and see which methods work best. A visual what-to-do, what-not-to-do guide."

"True." Theo drawled with a slight rise in his lip. One that matched Granger's own risen one-sided mouth.

Oh dear sweet Merlin. It was bad enough that Harry was attached to the insect, but Theo? Theo? Harry was excused (for the most part) since he was unusual, a trait Draco learned to live with just as Harry learned to deal with his less than favorable ones. But Theo was different. Theo was the rational one of the group, who knew how inadequate the muggle world was to theirs, who was aware of the corruption Muggle-borns brought into their world.

It seemed Draco wasn't the only one who repulsed by the smile exchange because Pansy sneered, "Why don't you two grab a bottle and a room so you can get more cozy?" She gave Granger a nasty, sweetly-sick smile. "I'm sure that will brighten your day, Granger, as well as Skeeter's."

The slight mouth lift on the insect's face crumbled into a tight, annoyed scowl. Despite Dumbledore's restraining order against the cockroach, forbidding her to be anywhere near school grounds, Skeeter still pestered about. She somehow caught Harry and the insect in the library, actually obtaining pictures of them standing close and locked in what looked to be an intense conversation, and turned the incident into a nasty love affair. Draco would have gotten his kicks since the article made Granger hated by half of Europe, who expressed their disapproval through malicious letters and Howlers, but he was too stumped, too annoyed by the "love" part.

As if Harry would ever consider-the idea alone was so sickening, almost to the point of him vomiting, that Draco shuddered and shoved the repulsive thought in the back of his mind.

"Why don't you-" Whatever Granger was about to say was put on hold as Severus came over to the table.

Cutting the insect with a glare that made her flinch, Severs said to Harry, "It's time, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed nervously as he gave a weak nod. Draco felt those spoonfuls of cement oatmeal weighting down on his stomach like stoned blocks. He pushed aside his plate and got up with Harry.

"Good luck, Potter." Blaise winked.

"We'll be cheering for you from the sidelines." Crabbe said. Goyle nodded in agreement.

"You'll be fantastic, darling," Pansy smiled. "I know you will."

Granger frowned at the pair. "Draco, you are aware Harry is the champion. Meaning, there's no need for you to follow him."

Draco returned the frown with a chilled smile. "Granger, you are aware you're the only one who likes hearing yourself talk. Meaning, there's no need for you to keep at it."

Harry grabbed his hand and walked out of the hall, just as Granger's frown sharpened to a glare and her curled hand reached for her wand. Draco had to give his best friend credit. Despite the nerves doubtlessly jumping inside him, Harry set his face to a cool, indifferent mask that would have made Father proud, and held his head high, his steps normal and steady. The only flaw that gave away the expressionless vision of unfazed was the tight clasp he had on Draco's hand.

Which suited Draco just fine since he was holding a grip on Harry's hand that was just as tight.

When they were several feet away from the tent where Draco could see the other Champions, Harry turned back to him and said, "Well I guess this is it."

Draco nodded. "So it seems." One side of his mouth then rose. "Try not to die out there, Potter. With you dead, I'll lose my great source of entertainment."

His words did the trick, causing a faint, exhausted smile to pull on those lips as Harry rolled his eyes. "Glad to know my sole purpose in life is to keep you entertained."

"And rich," Draco added. "Let's not forget the bet. Have ten gallons riding on you and I expect to get my money's worth."

"Prat." Harry lightly shoved him away.

"And proud of it."

Harry rolled his eyes once more. The look on his face softened as he glanced back at the tent, then back over at Draco. "I'll see you soon."

"Definitely."

Harry leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, knocking Draco's breath down his throat. He was pulling away and Draco couldn't let him go-not yet. Before he could draw another breath, his hands grasped onto Harry's face and his lips crashed onto his, landing a swift but rough kiss that was so hard, Draco's lips were stinging when he pulled back a second later.

Harry stared at him for a second or two, as if he was holding his breath forever and was told he was finally allowed to release it. Stunned, he took a shaky step back, then another, and finally turned around to walk to the tent.

"Potter!" Harry turned back. "You better come out of that pit the same way you went in."

He stared at him for a second or two, nodded, and disappeared into the tent.

Heart quivering underneath his chest, stomach curling into tight knots, lips still stinging, Draco swallowed down and straightened his shirt. He cleared his throat and went over to the main entrance of the stadium.

Walking through the front gates of the arena reminded him of the gladiator matches and chariot races that took place in ancient Rome with marble-stone benches for the audience and a higher boxed section hovering over them, plot in the center between the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, reserved for teachers and sponsors. It was a bit tricky to find his friends among the sea of faces, but he caught sight of two brunettes, one with one with chin-length hair, the other with a hardcover in his hand, snarling at each other while being held back by two thick-framed guys.

It seemed there was a benefit to Pansy and Theo's bickering after all: it made them easier to find.

"Honestly, Parkinson," Theo said. "If you kept your mouth shut for a good five minutes that would be considered a miracle. Better yet, one of the greatest presents you could give me. Eight days of Hanukkah rolled into one."

"Oy vey." Blaise muttered, smirking at the dark glare Theo shot him.

"I'm surprised you have a problem with me, Nott, when you're all buddy-buddy with a Gryffindork who couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it." Her lips twisted into a smile stuffed with so much sweetness, Draco felt cavities building in his teeth from looking at it. "Maybe the attraction boils down to your secret fetish of bedding animals. With her bushy hair and buck teeth, the darling makes such an adorable beaver."

Theo scowled at her. "Better a beaver than a pug-faced hyena!"

Poor Crabbe looked like he was struggling to keep Pansy in her grasp, her hands flinging wildly, trying to land a mark on Theo's face.

Scowling, Draco rolled his eyes and pushed the two apart. "If you two want to rip each other's heads off, do it in private. I should remind you that we are Slytherins." His glare slide from Theo over to Pansy, both who at least had the decency to look sheepish. "More importantly we're purebloods with an image and reputation to uphold."

The two traded one last glare before they took their seats, Crabbe and Goyle smacked in between them. A good thing too since Draco had a feeling they may be tempted to throw the other one down the pit.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman's voice boomed around the arena. "welcome to the Tri-Wizard Tournament!"

The audience exploded into wild cheers and applause.

"The first task is designed to test the Champion's bravery. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important trait quality in a wizard. Plus, I believe it will be greatly entertaining to see how each Champion's wit fares during particular situations." A piss-poor attempt at a joke that was met with a few weak chuckles. "Each Champion must square off with a dragon hauled all the way from Romania, land of the mystic and the beyond. The dragon is safeguarding a nest of golden eggs, one of which the Champion must retrieve in order to win. They will be scored based on the amount of time it takes for them to complete the task and the method they used to retrieve the golden egg."

Even though Draco already was aware of the task, his stomach still churned, threatening to send back up the cement oatmeal he forced himself to eat at breakfast.

"The first Champion shall be Beauxbatons's Champion Fleur Delacour."

Draco had to hand it to Delacour for being so poised. There wasn't a falter in her step as she stepped out, as if she were walking on a fashion runway instead of a dragon pit, head held high, a sly smile curving her lips, and confidence buzzing around her body. Confidence that was well-earned since Delacour was a deadly-pretty face with even deadlier claws. Draco had the pleasure (and slight horror) of watching her nearly tear her opponents apart during defense classes at the hellish retreat.

Sunshine gleamed onto her light hair that was pulled into a low ponytail, shimmering like crystals. She wore a light-blue skintight suit that hugged every curve in her body, the short skirt fluttering by the wind, earning her cheers and praise from her admirers.

Unfortunately for the buffoons, Delacour didn't spare them a glance. She stared straight ahead at the opposite direction where Draco could hear from his seat growls that shook the ground underneath their feet.

At the sound of the horn, a pair of silver eyes glowed from the darkness of the cave before a pale-green, scaly talon that was fifty times the size of the giant oaf's body popped out. Followed by another talon, then another, until the dragon fully emerged from the cave, crawling out like a snake, a scowl marred onto its face, making it look even uglier than it already was. The dragon raised itself up till it was standing on its back legs, its' impressively tall height almost going past the pit and reaching up to the lower section.

"That's a Walsh Green." Theo breathed in awe.

"Is it as deadly as it looks?" Draco asked.

"Does Professor Snape hate Gryffindors?"

Letting that serve as an answer, Draco watched the scene from high above. Down below, the Walsh Green dragon spread out its wings that nearly filled up the space in the pit and fluttered them once; blasting strong gushes of wind that nearly blew audience members off their seats. It tilted its head back and let out a stream of fire that singed the air.

Delacour didn't look the least bit intimidated by the display of power. She stood perfectly still as the creature lowered its head and stared deeply into his eyes, examining it like it was a mouse she was dissecting before she slowly approached it.

"What on earth is she doing?" Pansy asked. "Shouldn't she be taking out her wand by now?"

Crabbe shrugged. "Maybe she's planning on using wandless magic."

Fiery orange glowed from the dragon's agape mouth. He glared at Delacour as he moved closer to her, but froze as a spark of ice-blue sheer came over the girl's eyes.

Draco snatched the binoculars hanging by Goyle's neck and peered through them, ignoring his friend's yelp of pain. He was too far away, too high up, to see exactly what Delacour was saying to the dragon, but saw that she was commanding it. Based on the repetitive pattern shaping her mouth, she was repeating the same command. Each step towards the dragon, Delacour's eyes glowed more and more until they were two pieces of bright turquoise. The words dripped from her mouth, the order repeated over and over again.

Until…during the last ten steps in, the Walsh Green dragon lowered itself onto the ground and stood still, as if it were a dog awaiting his next command.

_What the_ -gasps and remarks bellowed from the crowd.

"How the hell did she do that?" Pansy gasped.

Even Theo who had an answer for everything and anything was stumped. "Maybe with a spell?"

Oh, she used a spell all right, but it was the type of spell that didn't need the help of a wand. All it needed was the steady, alluring gaze from a veela.

As much as it irked him, Draco had to credit cleverness when he saw it. It was an impressive move, one that played well in Delacour's favor.

Once the dragon was down, Delacour wasted no time running around the dragon to retrieve the egg hidden behind it. As soon as Delacour's eyes were off it, the spell was broken and the dragon sprung into action.

He whirled around to release a gush of fire, some of the flames catching onto Delacour's skirt, but it was too late. Delacour was already on the other side, holding the egg up high as if it were a trophy.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Delacour!"

The applause was almost thunderous, roaring with cheers. A few nits conjured up roses and threw them into the pit. Delacour accepted the praise with a pretty smile and a low bow.

"Shouldn't that count as cheating?" Pansy demanded. "She didn't even use a wand."

"Her Veela senses would still classify as a weapon," Theo replied. "And quit complaining, Parkinson. She was brilliant and you know it."

Pansy pointed at the right corner of her mouth. "You got a little drool. Right there. Quickly turning into a waterfall."

Theo shot her a dark glare.

The Champion next up was Krum. He strode into the pit like a soldier heading off to battle. He raised one fist up high that caused the crowd, particularly his school and fans, to go into a wild frenzy.

He was up against a scarlet-red dragon Theo explained was the Chinese Fireball that was twice the size of the Delacour's dragon and twice as deadly.

Krum didn't wait for the dragon to move, already unleashing a series of hexes from his wand that cut into the dragon's eye.

"What the hell is he doing?" Draco wondered out loud. Less than a minute in and Krum shot over twenty hexes, causing the dragon's irritation to rise more and more if its outraged cries had anything to say about it.

"This idiot just wants to get himself killed." Theo muttered.

Crabbe looked over at him and frowned in confusion. "Thought you said an eye was one of their weak spots?"

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. "It is but there are better ones to target. More effective spots that Krum could hit, like behind the ear. Hitting a dragon in the eye is like poking the bear."

In other words, Krum was a dead man.

On and on the buffoon went, firing shot after shot. The dragon unleashed blasts of fire Krum barely escaped from, flames catching onto the hem of his shirt, spreading down to his pants. He dove and rolled onto the ground to extinguish the flames, oblivious to the dragon hovering over him, going in for the kill. Right as the dragon was about to lean in for the final blow, Krum shot up from the ground and fired another hex, a more powerful one, that cut right into the dragon's throat, breaking through skin, spilling streams of crimson that rained onto the ground.

The tactic worked since the dragon was injured and knocked back, but just as the dragon's skin was breaking apart, it was soon patching itself back together. Because the dragon was taken aback by the blast and distracted by the pain, it failed to see where it was going, taking several giant steps back and crushing the eggs Krum was suppose to catch.

_Idiot_ , Draco scoffed.

Theo shook his head. "Offense is always a popular strategy, but it should be done away from the valuables."

The judges were dismayed by the turn of events, unsure what to do since Krum managed to defeat his dragon but damaged the property. In the end, no points were given, causing a flare of outrage from the audience.

"Foul!" one Hufflepuff screamed.

"That's totally unfair!"

"I call bullshit!"

Dear Merlin. Draco rolled his eyes. First Lockhart, now Krum? Were common sense and dignity so easily crushed by a pretty face?

"Tough luck," Blaise commented. "Krum was the popular vote as first-place winner. Daphne said one of the Weasley twins betted big on him."

"How big we talking?" Goyle asked.

"Half a thousand gallons."

Draco tried very little to hide his snicker. The Weasel clan was already in enough debt that would carry over to their great, great grandchildren. This financial bust was bound to be quite a blow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have seen two very stellar performances from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Bagman announced. "And now we'll be treated to ones from prominent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry starting with... _Cedric Diggory!"_

Clad in hideous bright-yellow, Diggory stepped out into the arena, tugging his gloves. His dragon, the Swedish Short-Snout, was slender, smaller than the previous two, and reminded Draco almost of a snake the way its body curled, lifting its head up slowly, opening its mouth to reveal sharp teeth that could cut the Hufflepuff into ribbons.

Unlike Krum, Diggory didn't spring into action. Unlike Krum, he didn't shoot countless hexes at the dragons. But, unlike Delacour, he didn't wait for the dragon to approach him either before making his way. He kicked one of the rocks by his feet towards the dragon, taking out his wand and changing the rock into a dog, a stunning Labrador with pale-blond fur. The dog barked and took off.

The dragon glared at it for a second or two before it stretched out its body and ran after it, leaving the golden eggs out in the open, unprotected. Coast clear, Diggory ran.

"Not a bad move." Theo remarked.

Draco almost agreed-until halfway through, the dragon paused and turned back. Seeing that Diggory was close to the eggs, it let out a vicious growl that shattered his eardrums.

The dragon leaped and the boy moved, running as if Satan was hot on his heels. Diggory got the egg, but barely, nearly having his head chopped off by a slash of the dragon's wing, then yelping in pain as a ball of fire was hurled at his head. One arm carrying the egg, the other trying to wipe the flames off his face, he sprinted and stumbled his way over to the other side.

"You have to admit that was creative." Blaise commented.

"And stupid," Draco dryly added, watching as a team of Healers descended on Diggory, casting the fire off his face and setting him down into a stretcher. Diggory waved a hand at his fans who cheered and applauded as their hero was being carried off. "If a dragon had the choice between a dog and an idiot, he'll go for the latter."

"Hufflepuff thinking for you." Pansy giggled.

At long last, it was time for the final Champion. Words fell on Draco's ears of whatever Bagman was saying, reassurance from his friends that the last dragon should be easy, that Harry prepared for this, that the plan was foolproof but they were all wasteful air. Nothing could pass through Draco's ears that were far too distracted by the roaring of his blood, the thundering of his heart.

The sound didn't settle until Harry finally stepped out, clad in his House colors. Sunlight sparked in his eyes, making them greener than before, brighter, more magnificent. To Draco's surprise, Harry didn't fidget. He took a few more steps as he looked around the stadium, eyes skimming through faces, searching for something.

As to what, the answer to that mystery was solved as emerald-green caught hold of stony-gray; a small lift touched the corner of his mouth before it touched Draco's.

_Still in one piece_ , Harry's bright-greens said.

Draco arched one brow teasingly.  _But for how long?_

Blaise interrupted the private conversation as he dug his elbow into Draco's side. "See, Malfoy? You were worrying over nothing. Potter's got this."

A loud, terrifying growl ripped through the air, one that shook the ground like a vicious earthquake, slashing cracks onto the walls and benches, one that caused Draco's heart to skid a few beats, one that caused hairs on the back of necks and arms to rise straight up. A terrifying sound that belonged to a terrifying creature. A gigantic, thick claw that was size of Diggory's dragon emerged from the shadows, the pitch-black blending in with the darkness, followed another, then another, and another. Until the dragon finally stepped into the light, the size of all three dragons combined times ten, so tall she nearly towered over the third row.

_Dear…sweet…blessed_  God, creator of heaven and Hell. Dear sweet Merlin, master of magic and wonder.

"Potter's a dead man." Blaise croaked, stunned.

"That's a Horntail." Theo breathed.

"I take it that's bad?" Pansy squeaked.

"Bad was the Walsh Green. Bad was the Chinese Fireball.  _That_?" Theo pointed towards it, his hand shaking. "Is the Devil's beast who could make those two its' dinner and have Diggory's dragon as a side-order."

_Dear God, Dear God, Dear God._  The words were a chant that played over and over in Draco's head like a song on repeat.

The dragon fixed its yellow eyes on Harry, who looked more and more like a helpless mouse trapped in a corner by the vicious cat. Draco pressed the binoculars closer to his face, ignoring Goyle's pained yelps. From his angle, he could see her mouth glowed bright reddish-orange, signaling an upcoming fire storm.

Harry stuck out his wand, " _Accio Firebolt!_ " bellowing from his mouth.

The broom should be here, zooming through the air, landing in his hand. It should be there, like they practiced a hundred times. It should be grasped in Harry's hand.

But the only thing Harry grasped was thin air.

_Dear God Almighty_. Draco's heart skidded like slow, painful kicks to his chest. Where the hell was that blasted broom?

The dragon blasted a stream of fire that spread like a gigantic wave. Harry ducked for cover by the miniature rock mountain.

Draco jumped from his seat and ran over to the railing, gripping so tightly onto it; he could feel the bones stretching out his skin.

Harry was safe-for now. But the streams of fire were relentless as they were nearly endless, waves upon waves of flames, quickly searing through the stones.

_Where the hell was that fucking broom?!_

Just as the stone wall was seconds away from giving out and surrendering Harry to the flames, the Firebolt finally appeared as if God-sent. The crowd went wild over the surprise, but Draco paid no mind to it as did Harry.

All that mattered was the bloody broom was here- _finally here_ -and it was in Harry's hand. All that mattered was that Harry was swinging his leg over it, that he was rising higher and higher until he was above the pit, then soon over their heads.

Harry dived. The Horntail's head followed him. Draco's breath clogged in his throat as a jet of fire had been released at the exact spot where Harry would have been had he not swerved away at the last second.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd gasped and shrieked. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail still following him, its head revolving on its neck. Draco bit down on his lip when Harry missed the flames, but the tail came out whipping to meet him instead and as he swerved to the left, one of the left spikes grazed his shoulder.

" _Harry!_ " Draco screamed. Even from the distance, he saw blood dripping from the torn fabric.

He knew from the grimace on Harry's face, it was more painful than it looked.

Despite the pain though, Harry still flew, first this way, then the other. It wasn't long before Draco figured out his plan. He wasn't near enough to make the dragon breathe fire, to stave him off, but still posed enough danger as a sufficient threat to ensure that her eyes were on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him with those hard yellow eyes, her fangs bared…

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with her, her neck now stretched out to the fullest extent, still swaying like a snake before its charmer.

Harry rose a few more feet and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail trashed again, but he was too high to reach now. She shot fire into the air, which he dodged…Her jaws opened wide…

_DearGreatStinkingMerlin. Dear Great Stinking Fucking Merlin!_ Underneath his chest, Draco's heart twisted and clenched, as if it were being squeezed into a ball by a tight, clawed fist.

The dragon then reared, spreading her great, black leathery wings and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he disappeared to, he was speeding towards the ground as fast as he could; towards the eggs-he taken his hand off the Firebolt-he seized the golden egg-

And with a huge spurt of air, he was off, soaring over the stands, the egg tucked under his arm.

_Holy…sweet…Merlin._

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that? Our youngest champion is the quickest to get the egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter."

The audience went crazy for Delacour when she finished, even Krum and Diggory got a rousing feedback despite their poor performances, but the love and awe over Harry was absolutely, unbelievably thunderous. Everyone in the stands, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, teachers and sponsors went crazy for him.

Crabbe and Goyle celebrated the victory with a double high-five. Pansy squealed excitedly and jumped into Theo's arms, holding him just as tightly as she was being held. Forgetting who they were hugging until they pulled back, wide-eyed, red-faced, and leaped a good five feet away from each other. Blaise put his fingers under his mouth and blew hard, blasting a sharp whistle that heightened the excitement.

"Potter did it!" he cheered. "I knew he could do it! Looks like you didn't need to worry after all, huh, Malfoy? Hey Malfoy? Malfoy?"

Draco didn't bother listening to the rest nor replying. He was already gone, quickly running down the steps, shoving and elbowing his way through the sea of people, heading straight to the hospital tent.

He found Harry sitting in one of the hospital beds, Madame Pomfey clucking her tongue and muttering to herself as she set his injured arm into a cast. Her irritation was only a small fraction of the massive, overwhelming anxiety shimmering inside Draco, panic tearing through his insides like a hurricane.

The hurricane didn't dim until Draco was a foot away and examined his best friend for bruises, finding a cut slashed onto his left cheek along with the cast. Didn't slowly break apart until Harry was in his arms, mindful of the cast, with Draco's face buried in the nape of his neck. Didn't settle until, underneath the fumes of smoke, he picked up the sweet, familiar scent of tart and cinnamon.

Only then did the thundering of his heart eased into a normal, steady pace. It was then he was finally able to draw another breath and let it out with little difficulty.

Draco inhaled the sweet scent of tart and cinnamon, letting the aroma overwhelm his senses, allowing himself to be drenched in it. He skimmed the curve of Harry's neck with his nose, taking another deep inhale. He skimmed it back again with his lips, feeling a fluttering beat trembling underneath the skin. Then, without question, overcome with a great need to taste, to mark that couldn't be swayed-that he wouldn't sway-he pressed his teeth against the skin and bit down hard. He felt Harry's body shudder from the sting before a sound slipped from his mouth that was too low for a gasp, almost too wondrous for a sigh, as his hand fell limply at his side and his head slightly eased back. Draco groaned, pleased, and bit harder.

Finally he pulled back and laid his head on Harry's shoulder, sighing happily.

"Well," Harry said a heartbeat later, his words almost coming out as a low rasp. "I managed to mostly come back the same way I went in."

Just for that, without releasing him from his arms or lifting up his head, Draco pinched him on his good arm, gaining a satisfying pained cry.

"Prat!" Harry hissed.

"You just love giving me a heart attack, don't you?" Draco pulled back a bit to look up at him.

"A question I often wondered myself over the years." Severus drawled, walking into the tent. He didn't even bat an eye at the tight hold they had on each other, a sight he came across countless times over the years. Draco had a feeling if they weren't in this position during stressful times, then it'd be a call of alarm for him. "Though reckless and at some points sloppy, overall I must congratulate you, Harry." A small hint of a smile touched his mouth. "That was impressive flying."

Harry's mouth curved into a smile, one that quickly changed into a frown as two unexpected (and unwelcomed) guests barged into the tent, heading over to them.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Granger squealed. There were fingernail marks on her face; she must have been pulling at it during Harry's match.

As annoying as she was, Draco knew the insect wasn't the reason why Harry was frowning. That reason lay in the weasel standing behind her like a shadow, his face white as linen-sheets.

"Harry," he croaked. "whoever put your name in that goblet-I-I reckon they're trying to do you in."

There were a number of times when Draco was so shocked by words, a sight, a moment that he felt his jaw drop all the way down to the ground. There were a greater number of times when red clouded his vision, filling him with the great desire to turn the source of that anger into confetti. This would be the first were the two feelings slammed into him at once like a pair of fists pounding at both sides, shock slapping his jaw down to the ground, anger coloring his vision and calling his balled fists to punch, claw, and hex.

The longer he stared at Weasley, the same one who weeks ago called Harry-Draco's Harry-a snake and a glorified attention-seeker and a liar and treated him like shite, who was now looking at him as if he solved the greatest mystery of all time, Draco was leaning more towards the latter. His hands were  _dying_  to do the latter.

He wasn't alone in the feeling. Severus looked as if he were tempted to join Draco into making Weasley-bastard confetti.

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."

Weasley blinked, stunned, and then stared stupidly at Harry like a fish caught out of water. Granger's excited grin melted into a disappointing frown. At the same time, Draco's scowl lifted into a pleasing smile.

"Harry-" Whatever sorry excuse or pathetic apology Weasley had to say, Harry wasn't interested in listening.

He turned back to Draco, the left side of his mouth curving into a faint, tired smile. "Walk me back to the room?"

Pleasure flowed and thrummed inside Draco like a wonderful song. "Love to."

Draco held onto the golden egg, which felt ten pounds of steel, and followed Harry out. It wasn't a quick escape as the two hoped since Bagman gathered the Champions together to reveal the scores, with Harry coming close to first and Krum in dead last, and to inform them that the next task was in February and the key lay in their golden egg.

The pair then tried to make a hasty retreat, but were met outside by a cockroach clad in tacky, hideous acid-green robes.

"Congratulations, Harry!" Skeeter beamed, giving them both an unwanted view of her chipped teeth. "I was wondering if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing the dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?"

"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. " _Goodbye_."

Skeeter gawked. Harry smirked. Draco snickered. Then the two headed towards the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all are interested, follow me on tumblr. My penname is gloster.


	32. One, two, step; one, two-Hush!

Fall withered away with its brisk wind and changing colors to ethereal winter that came with beauty and vengeance, coating the castle and its grounds with thick layers of pure-white snow, heavy downpour of snowflakes that added more layers to the thick sheets, and sharp, strong gushes of freezing wind that pierced through clothes, digging underneath the skin and nearly freezing one to the very core.

Within the first week of December, light shirts were replaced with thick robes and sweaters. Heating charms glowed around hats and gloves during strolls through the courtyard. Students had to be weary of their steps or risk slipping on the ice and falling hard on their arse.

The whirlwind transition of the seasons was almost as crazy as the way fourth year was turning out for Harry. Three months in and he could easily say that this had to be the craziest of school years yet. The events that fell on him would be categorized into three slots: bad, good, and in between.

The bad: being entered into a tournament, a deadly one at that, he wanted no part of but somehow his name was added and picked. He still had no idea who framed him, but he definitely knew it was connected to Voldemort, to that same dream he had.

The good: he survived the first task of the tournament and managed to come out in one piece (mostly) with the cost of a few scratches and a wounded arm. There was also a bonus attached to that bit of fortune. His flying episode with the dragon landed him in a good spot in the rankings, and the fact people saw for themselves how serious the tournament was (nothing could be more serious than going toe-to-toe with a dragon) cleared any if not most suspicion that he entered himself.

However, there were a few things that weren't so easy to label, things that fell into a mix of the two. The greatest example would be Ron. He was back in Harry's life, which was good, very good since Harry did miss him, but things were still tense between them. They were friendly with each other, able to talk more freely, but Harry noticed the slight stiffness in their conversations, which was sometimes too polite, almost too formal for friends. Even though Ron admitted he was wrong, apologized, and snapped at people still whispering about and laughing at him, Harry couldn't forget the cold shoulder he treated him to for a whole month. Couldn't forget the things he said and how he acted when his name was called. Ron wanted to forgive and forget. The only problem was Harry wasn't in a rush nor felt inclined to offer either.

There was also Moody. Since his first day at DADA, he developed an odd interest in the Harry, popping in at odd moments, sending countless summonses to his office for a chat that Harry had to wiggle his way out from. Which was odd given the fact the man was a legend in the Ministry, one whom even his dad was in awed by, despite his tics. Yet there was something about him, something off he couldn't quite explain, that made caution ring softly in his ear whenever the former Auror was too close to him.

But Harry had bigger things to worry about than complicated friendships and odd professors. Such as the second task that was rumored to be more difficult than the first. Thankfully the Champions had till February to prepare and the clue lay in the golden egg they retrieved from the dragon. However, it wasn't as easy as it sounded. For example Harry learned the hard way cracking the egg open wasn't the right route. Crabbe tried at it during the party his friends threw in honor of his victory and the egg let out a horrible, ear-splitting shriek that killed their eardrums.

There was also the matter of-

"The Yule Ball is two weeks away and  _you still don't have a date!_ "

Pansy once said whenever her voice grew louder it meant her caring grew deeper, which was a sweet, sentimental thought but Harry would have much preferred she showed that deep caring in the privacy of one of their dorms than laying it out in the open-quite loudly may he add-in the ballroom Severus summoned the Slytherins to during their free period. Her words practically bounced off the walls, drawing unwanted attention from his housemates who watched on, amused.

Dear Merlin, if there was ever a time Harry wanted to disappear, now would be a really good time.

Theo set down the book he was reading on his lap to give him a sympathetic pat on the back. "I know. Her mouth should be considered a plague of its own design."

Harry wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that there was no one sitting between the two the way Pansy glared at him. "Your revolting presence should be considered a plague, just like your rank breath," She waved a hand in front of her face, shuddering for extra effect. "should be marked as the fourth Unforgivable curse."

"Oh, I can think of  _plenty_  that should-"

Severus intervened, drawling, "If you two are done?"

Flushed in embarrassment, the two as well as the rest of the house turned to the front where Severus stood, his black eyes scanning over their faces. One student sitting in the lower benches raised his hand and spoke when he was granted permission with a slight nod.

"No offense, sir, but why are we here?"

A black brow rose slightly. "I already suspected that your brain cells were failing. Now I can see that your eyes are as well." Red colored the boy's face as he slumped in his chair. "We are in a ballroom, where you will learn to dance. Any other questions-preferably non-idiotic ones." His eyes cut to the boy who flinched, sinking lower in his seat.

Draco decided to take a crack at it. "I think what he meant, sir, is this honestly necessary? Most of us are already familiar with balls."

Harry wondered if it was fate or choice that had a majority of purebloods be placed in the Slytherin house. Draco's comment, he imagine, would come across as snobbish but he was simply stating a fact. It practically seemed like it was a law requirement for pureblood heirs and heiresses to familiar and excel in a variety of dances, the waltz first and foremost. Along with etiquette and languages, that was another pureblood lesson Aunt Cissa made sure they were brilliant at, even though it did take Harry awhile to become more confident with his footing.

"The Yule Ball is a great, honored tradition that has been one of the top prides of Hogwarts for centuries. Although a majority of you are already familiar with balls and dancing, this is different. Eyes will be on you, linking every move and action you make to our school in general. I refuse to rely on memory alone and risk the Slytherin House beseeching its name by parading in there like a band of blundering, bumbling bamboos. The Gryffindors already succeed in that."

No one bothered to hold onto their laughter. Even Harry couldn't keep down his chuckles.

"During the ball, I expect each and every of you to conduct yourselves as presentable ladies and gentlemen. If to ensure that means revising familiar steps, then so be it. Now, which of you will be brave enough to act as the example?"

Pansy snatched Theo's hand and lifted it high. Theo tried to break free from her hold but-

"Nott, front and center."

"But-"

Severus cut him off with a glare.

Looking like he was heading off to death row, Theo shoved his book into a snickering Pansy's chest and climbed down the steps, over to Severus. His face bright red, he grabbed hold of one of his hands.

"Mr. Nott?"

"Yes?" he squeaked, setting off a roar of laughter among the Slytherins.

"While I applaud you for being a firm believer in maintaining personal space between you and your partner," Severus said. "I hope you realize that it will be difficult for you two to dance if the gap between you is big enough to fill a continent."

Even Harry couldn't hold his chuckles. Pansy most certainly let out her laughs out loud and proud, leaning onto Daphne for support to keep from falling over.

Mortified, Theo took slow steps towards their Head of House, excruciatingly-slow steps as if each one caused him great pain.

"Mr. Nott?"

"Yes?"

"You are aware that in order for this to work, your free arm that's currently dangling by your side will need to be around my waist."

Only Merlin knew how Uncle Severus managed to say such a thing with a complete straight face without his lips twitching or his voice cracking. However he succeeded, it was a trick he should consider teaching Theo whose face turned into a bright shade of red.

"I…I-I really wouldn't feel comfortable with that, sir."

The arched brow rose higher, decreasing the likelihood of Theo coming out from this little demonstration in one piece. "And you think that I am?" A trick question that would determine whether or not he'll see tomorrow if he answered it wrong.

Theo clamped his mouth shut and obliged, placing his other arm around Severus's waist, unleashing wave upon wave of laughter that went on like a tsunami.

"You're never gonna let him live this down, are you?" Harry asked Blaise.

The burst of laughter served as an accurate answer, followed by, "Never! You are looking at the image that will be splashed onto the Christmas cards."

Despite his mortification and the snickers, Theo got through his dance, barely missing a step or a beat. He did send a number of daggered looks towards them, particularly to Pansy, during his waltz that promised brutal, merciless suffering later on.

When the dance came to an end, Theo was all too happy to be released from Severus's hold.

"Though it took a century and a half for the dance to start," Severus remarked. "Not bad, Nott. You maintained good control and clear direction."

"The wonders magic can do for two left feet." Pansy snickered.

"Parkinson!" She flinched at the sound of her name. "Since you seem so zealous, perhaps you can demonstrate how a Slytherin lady should conduct herself."

" _What?!_ "

Theo dissolved into laughter.

"But sir-"

Severus gestured towards the spot next to him. Whimpering, Pansy rose from her seat and walked over to him.

"And now," Blaise whispered as a miserable-looking Pansy placed her hand on Severus's shoulder while his arm wrapped itself around her waist. "I found the perfect picture to use for the Hanukkah edition. Nott will be thrilled."

Pansy's dance lesson was just as charming to watch as Theo's was, even more so since she missed a few steps trying to burn Theo alive with her heated glares, actually stepping on Severus's toes more than once, an incident that led to her head nearly getting chopped off. When she was through with her dance, Severus called all of them to the floor, ordering they be broken up into pairs. Theo and Pansy made a point of passing by each other with a sneer, Theo claiming Daphne as his partner, Pansy Draco.

Harry tried to shake off the odd, searing-cold feeling that twisted his insides as Pansy laid her hand on Draco's shoulder and Draco entwined his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him, causing her scowl to melt into a smile that brought out another from his best friend. It was an odd feeling to have since Pansy was their friend, one whom they danced with at tons of balls with before, and that it was just a warm-up exercise. Yet the feeling remained, turning in his stomach like thread on a spinning wheel.

Blaise distracted him from his thought as he strode over to Harry, his hand stretched out to him.

Harry glanced at the hand, then up into his friend's mischievous eyes. "Not sure if you noticed, Blaise, but I'm temporarily handicapped." He gestured towards his cast.

"There are many things that can be accomplished with one hand," Blaise smirked, pulling Harry onto his feet, hand settled at his waist. "Including dancing."

The hidden innuendo behind those semi-innocent words wasn't lost on Harry. "You are completely shameless, you know that?" he said as Blaise began to lead.

Wickedness touched his smile. "You make it seem like that's a bad thing?"

A low growl rumbled in Draco's throat as he watched the pair, red coating his vision like a veil, the same crimson-red shade that would be pouring form Zabini's mangled corpse if the bastard smiled any brighter, leaned any closer towards Harry-

" _Ow!_ "

Draco forced his gaze away from the pair over to Pansy, who broke her hand free from his grip, lightly waving it. "Squeeze my hand any harder and my crushed bones will become the new recipe for lemonade."

He spotted the bright red welts marked on her skin. "Sorry."

* * *

The dance lesson wasn't as horrible as Harry thought it would be. Theo and Pansy's waltzes with Severus would forever be a hilarious memory he'd treasure forever, saving it for gloomy days. Blaise was a nut, but gave him good pointers during their dance, gently reminding Harry to relax and not think too hard about his steps. The only foul thing about the lesson was it increased Pansy's obsession of the ball and his lack of date.

During study hall, she leaned in close and said, "Explain to me please, Potter, how you don't have a date."

Harry groaned. "Can you please just drop it?"

"Nope," she smirked. "You are one of the most sought out boys in this school. Dozens of people have asked you to the ball, a dozen more are waiting to be asked by you, and still nothing."

It did sound odd when she put it like it. It wasn't as if Harry had a shortage of possible candidates. Girls from Slytherin and the other Houses asked, some Beauxbatons girls, and even both girls and guys from Durmstrang asked him. The problem was he was picky. The ball was going to be nerve-wracking enough with those people staring him as he and the other Champions commence the event with the first dance. If he had to dance, then he wanted it to be with someone he could be comfortable. Someone who wouldn't mind if he accidentally stepped on their toes if he got too nervous.

Daphne smiled gently at him. "Isn't there anyone you want to go with, Harry?"

Harry's eyes drifted over to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho was giggling along with her friends. He caught her eye and a smile played on her lips. Harry was about to return the smile till Cedric stopped by the table, wrapped Cho in his arms, and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. Cho tried to push him off, but he was persistent, holding her tighter, dropping more kisses that landed on her forehead and nose and cheeks. With a half-sigh, half-giggle, she admitted defeat and responded to Cedric's attacks with a kiss to his neck.

Harry's would-have smile died before it even had the chance to come out.

"Well, isn't that sweet." Draco drawled.

"Just adorable." Harry dryly remarked. And clearly no longer an opinion.

He could have gone with Hermione but she already had a date, even though she was tight-lipped to reveal who it was. Ginny was going with Neville. Harry bit his lip, then released it, glancing over at his friends. 'What about you guys? You have dates?"

A harsh " _Sssh!_ " cut him off. One glance behind him confirmed that the sound came from Severus, the teacher on duty for study hall, patrolling the area to break apart conversations and swerve heads back into their books.

Crabbe waited till Severus moved along before answering, "Me and Goyle are taking Millie and her roommate."

Pansy smiled. "I'm going with the other most sought out boy in school. Darling Dray."

Harry blinked, then blinked again, stunned. He didn't know about that.

"She asked me yesterday," Draco explained, then sent a glare her way. "Though she might not even have a date if-"

" _Sssh!_ " Severus hissed, passing by.

Draco dropped his voice to a whisper. "She keeps calling me by that ridiculous nickname. You know how much I hate it."

"And still I use it." she smirked.

Blaise didn't answer when the question fell on him. He smiled across the table at Daphne and offered her his hand. She accepted it, warily though, with an eye-roll.

"No." Pansy groaned.

"I assure you, Pansy," Blaise smiled. "Daphne is in capable hands. I'll be a perfect gentleman, guaranteed to make her night very satisfying."

Daphne rolled her eyes again. "Highly doubtful, Zabini."

Blaise shrugged with one shoulder, the smile remaining. "Every victim's famous last words."

"So help me, Zabini," Pansy said. "If I lose my best friend because of your vast stupidity, I'll shove you cock into your arsehole and superglue it there."

A grimace crossed Draco's face, one that almost matched Harry's. "Thank you, Pans, for that charming visual."

One Harry already knew their minds would have a hard time erasing.

She shrugged, indifferent. Harry shuddered as the image popped into his mind. Shaking his head to rid himself of the disturbing picture, he asked Theo, "What about you? Who are you taking?"

It was the second time that week Theo turned bright red, the color filling his cheeks. "I'm going with…" He then ducked down his head and mumbled something under his breath so low, even Harry who was sitting right next to him couldn't hear it.

"Who?"

"Spit it out, Nott." Pansy demanded.

Theo took in a deep breath and started over. "I'm going with Padma Patil."

" _Her?!_ " Pansy's shriek was so loud, dozens of heads swerved over to their direction.

"No, McGonagall," Theo snapped. "Yes Padma."

That was certainly a surprise, but then again as Harry thought over it, the news wasn't exactly shocking. Theo ran into Padma at the Alexandria library over the summer and the two grew close, bonding over their great love of books and knowledge. Sometimes Harry came across them at the library, laughing and chatting over a passage from a book. "That's great, Theo."

He smiled, but then smile quickly soured to a frown as a snort ripped through Pansy's mouth. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering how many times you had to beg and grovel until the poor dear finally took pity on you and said yes."

"Infinitely less compared to the number of times you got down on your knees for Draco before he finally said yes to shut you up."

Growling, Pansy grabbed hold of Theo's ink jar and flung it at his face, coating him in dark-blue ink.

" _My eyes!_ " Theo yelped, wiping furiously at them. "You goddamn blasted, wretched-"

"ARSE!" Pansy exclaimed, grabbing her things and storming out from the room.

Theo muttered up a storm of venom-laced words as he wiped himself off with a few cleaning spells.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining." Draco smirked.

"The only thing missing is a hex and a- _urrgh!_ " A force grabbed hold of their heads and shoved them down, nearly pressing their noses onto the table.

"If I have to come back here one more time because you brats can't keep your mouths shut," Severus warned. "You will have a lot more to worry about than craned necks."

He pressed down on them for extra measure and moved along. Groaning, the two raised their heads and massaged their poor necks.

"Isn't he just charming?" Draco remarked.

Harry grunted in reply, working through the kinks in his neck. His eyes drifted back to the Ravenclaw table, then slide down to the right end where one girl with diry-blond hair sat alone in her own corner, bobbing her head to whatever song she was listening to in her mind.

It was then that an idea struck him.

After study hall, Harry broke away from his friends and chased after Luna who was skipping along the halls. It was a bit of a challenge keeping up with her in such a crowded halfway but thankfully her long, dirty-blond hair stood out as well as her bright-pink trainers.

"Luna!" he cried.

She stopped mid-skip and looked over her shoulder. A soft, serene smile curved her mouth. "Hello Harry."

Harry walked over to her slowly, thinking over the best approach to pose the question. Aunt Cissa always said it was proper to engage in small talk about friends or activities, and then slowly slide the question in. Hermione was a firm believer in the direct approach, stressing that time was the upmost importance and shouldn't be wasted trying to fit in a question. For the sake of time, he went with the latter. "I was wondering...if you'd like to go with me to the ball?"

For a moment, Luna stared at him blankly as if her mind went into a deep sleep. After what felt like a long hour, she blinked her eyes, the smile back on her face, blossoming like a flower. "I would be honored to."

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Great. Should I pick you up at your dorm? Say around seven-thirty?"

"Alright," Her smile grew. "That should give me enough time to put myself together and have the spray ready."

_Spray?_  "Do you mean perfume?"

Luna shook her head. "Oh, this isn't the type of spray for body odor. It's for the Nargles."

Harry felt his brows furrow in confusion. "Um, Nargles?"

"Irksome creatures. Quite crafty too. Hard to see, even harder to be rid of. And since you have dark hair, you're in greater danger since they're fond of brunettes. I'll make a large bottle just for you."

What on earth could one say other than an awkward, "Thank you," after hearing a statement like that.

It seemed to be the right answer since Luna gave one more smile, waved, and continued her skip down the hall. Harry watched her go with a small, fond smile and turned around-

To find Draco there behind him, leaning against the wall, looking less and less happy as the seconds ticked by. "Lovegood?"

Harry wasn't sure what to make of his tone. On one hand, it wasn't exactly cold but on the other it was far from warm too. Carved with a certain edge that was definitely a brow-riser, chirping out Luna's name. An edge that didn't sit well with Harry. "Pansy," he reminded with a frown.

If anything, that made Draco more annoyed. He pushed himself off the wall and stared at Harry for what felt like long hours, breaking through the silence when at last he said, "I'll see you back at the room."

"Draco-"

He was already walking away.

Harry stared after him, dumbfounded. What the hell just happened? Why did that happened? Draco was going to the ball with Pansy, an invitation he accepted without mentioning it to him. Harry needed a date and figured Luna was perfect. Luna, who was an odd but nice girl. Luna, who was simply a good friend he knew wouldn't care if he missed a step or two if he got nervous. They both had dates. Things were fine, good, and all set.

So why did that odd feeling come back? A bizarre feeling he couldn't shake off that was similar to the odd iciness pricking his stomach when Draco and Pansy were paired up during the dance lesson but more heavier, weighting down on Harry's insides like a marble-ball. Why did he feel so strange? Almost…guilty as if he committed a great crime but had no idea what he done?


	33. A Night to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing is when I read the outline for the Yule Ball chapter, I had some many ideas that I decided to spilt it into two. This chapter was suppose to be the first half of the Yule ball and the other would be focused on the aftermath but then I realized the last chapter had a bit of a cliffhanger, there was also the fact it was Christmas and I wanted to explore that, and feature some interesting moments for the gang. So this chapter is the pre-Yule Ball. Next one will be the ball from start to finish.

Envy was such an odd, curious thing. Sometimes it was surprising that the emotion wasn't considered magic itself.

It came in many forms. Like a shadow that followed your every move that couldn't be outrun. A virus that spread across the body, pulsing through every vein, till the system was flowing with it, burning like molten lava. Often a green monster that rooted in the chest, growing bigger in strength and size, its massive frame expanding till it finally burst out, growls booming from its mouth, fists swinging.

When Draco peeked around the corner and saw Harry and Lovegood talking, envy struck him. Not as a shadow or a green monster, but as a raspy-voiced, smug mistress clutching to his side, whispering in his ear to watch. He tried to fight off the words, to resist the urge, but it was hard to shake her off. Envy held him in a tight grip, instructing him to keep watching. To get closer.

_Don't they make such a sweet couple_ , she chirped.

Anger blazed inside him, simmering as Harry exchanged a departing smile with his "date" before she skipped away. When Harry looked back and saw he was there, he wanted to disappear. To pretend as if he just walked in and didn't see a thing. Yet a strange, strong mixture of anger, envy, and even hurt moved his body off the wall, letting Lovegood's name slip out with a sharp edge that could cut through glass.

"Pansy." Harry reminded him with a frown.

The name of his date, the girl he was taking to the ball. He should have let the matter drop, moved on, but that name just made everything worse, causing those strange feelings to batter against his chest like fists.

So he did what he usually did best: he walked away, ignoring Harry calling his name.

By the time he reached the room, most of his envy blew away, the green-eyed mistress departing with a breath of cold laughter before she vanished. Anger was still there but the blade lessened to a dull edge. Hurt, though, remained, which made no sense since Harry made a good point. Pansy approached him before class and asked him to the ball. Draco accepted without much thought. Harry was in need of a date, a partner to share the first dance with. And if he was being honest with himself, Lovegood wasn't a horrible choice. Better her than a Veela Beauxbaton girl who'd use her allure on the poor boy-or a buffoon from Durmstrang.

And yet…he couldn't shake the strange feeling that collected in his chest like cobwebs.

_Maybe because a part of you was hoping he wouldn't take a date_ , whispered a voice that was a mix between envy's alluring drawl and the taunting snicker of a feeling he couldn't quite name.

_Ridiculous_ , Draco scoffed, and then frowned as he realized how weak the claim sounded, even to him.

He looked up from his hands that were folded on his lap, fingers laced together, to the door that softly pushed open. Harry entered the room, dropping his bag on the coffee table, shrugging off his robes.

"Are you over your piss-tudes or should I leave the room to give you and your ego time to work things out?"

Draco scowled but didn't protest, knowing he deserved the verbal blow. He breathed in and out, breaking apart his fingers, and said, "I know I can be a bit of a prat."

Harry scoffed, which caused Draco's scowl to tighten. " _A bit?_ "

"You most definitely can be a git! And an idiotic one at that!"

"Better an idiotic git than a spoiled-rotten prat!"

Draco latched onto his bottom lip and bit down hard, nearly drawing out blood, knowing the next words that flew out his mouth might take the argument from mild to explosive. He took in breath after breath, slowly counting down from ten, trying to get his emotions under control and wipe that annoying image of Harry and Lovegood standing so close to each other, smiling, that kept flashing in his head.

By the time his anger was pushed away, Harry was seated at the other end of the bed, untying his shoes. Draco shrugged, which was sort of ridiculous since Harry couldn't see it, and said, "Well, I'm a prat and you're a git. Aren't we a pair?"

Harry shrugged with an air of indifference and kicked off his left shoe. He dropped his right leg on top of the other and worked on the other shoe. It was a response that didn't sit well with Draco. He crawled over to the other side, wrapped his arms around Harry, and laid his head on his shoulder.

"Despite it all, you're still my favorite person."

Silence met him but he still reached out, dropping a kiss on his cheek, feeling a small curve on the corner of his lip.

"Just like I'm yours."

At least he hoped he still was.

Harry undid his laces and kicked off the other shoe. He stared straight ahead at the wall for what felt like hours before he sighed and leaned into him, one of his hands covering Draco's. "Yes," he finally said. "Even though everyday I question why."

Draco dropped another kiss on his cheek, holding him tight. "Because I'm so pretty."

"Get the hell over yourself." Harry laughed, elbowing him away.

And just like that, the slate was wiped clean and things were fine again. Well, not completely since those odd, entangled feelings remained, throbbing inside like a fresh bruise, but Draco chose not to dwell on them, focusing on the fact peace was restored. And Harry was completely at his mercy as Draco pounced on him, burying the smaller boy underneath his weight and tickling the life out of him.

* * *

Christmas morning crept in with a fresh sheet of snow that coated the castle and school grounds pearly-white, looking so fresh and beautiful, like the perfect picture of winter heaven plastered on a holiday card. Draco cracked one eye opened, groaning at the beam of sunlight that leaked through the windows, hitting him right in the face. Snowflakes spilled from the sky like a heavy rain, so thick and lovely.

For a moment he forgot where he was. He was curled up in his nice, warm fortress of duvets and blankets. Harry was by his side, arm slung around Draco's waist, limbs entangled in each other. Just as it should be. But his senses slowly became more alert, picking up on details. Like the fact his bed was closer to the window than it usually was-and that the window was on the wrong side of the room. There was also another bed that sat on the other side, untouched. The decor of the room. Then he remembered.

This year he and Harry were staying at Hogwarts instead of going home for the holidays. Tonight was the Yule Ball where he was taking Pansy, Harry was taking dear Lovegood, which was going to be  _fantastic._

Draco felt his face curdling as if he tasted a sour lemon. He pushed back the unpleasantness and focused only on the pleasant. Like how beautiful the snow looked outside and how much they'd enjoy it later on. Like the fact it was Christmas, one of his favorite holidays, and the tree Harry insisted they add to the room was packed with so many presents just begging to be opened. Like how peaceful Harry looked sleeping beside him.

He watched the rise and fall of his chest that flowed in a steady rhythm. His black hair was even messier than usual, tousled and mussed from sleep. Harry snuggled closer into the pillow, more against him. Draco ranked a gentle hand through the messy mane, once again awed that hair as messy as Harry's could be so thick. Feel so soft. Harry murmured something in his sleep, shifting his body more towards him, moving his head onto Draco's arm.

His mouth pulled into a frown before his eyes blinked once, twice times, squinting from the brightness of the morning sun. With a half-groan, half-mutter, emerald-green slowly cracked open, astonishing Draco with their unique, startling color.

"Morning." Draco whispered.

Sleep slowly cleared from Harry's eyes as a tired smile touched them. "Morning."

"Happy Christmas." Draco leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his brow.

The smile shining in Harry's eyes crossed over to his lips. "Happy Christmas."

A yawn slipped from his mouth as he flipped onto his back, rubbing sleep from his eyes, stretching out his sore muscles. He pushed aside the blankets and moved down to the corner. Before he had the chance to swing his legs over the edge, Draco snatched him back, holding him tight.

"Hey!" Harry protested, trying to fight his way out.

Too bad for him Draco wasn't ready to let him go just yet, partially because he liked having his favorite pillow nearby, partially because he never pass up the opportunity to annoy Harry, which was a present in itself. "I think I want to rest a bit more."

"Great," Harry replied, still struggling. "I'll make sure to keep breakfast warm for you."

"Come now, Potter, you can't expect me to sleep without my favorite pillow, do you?"

"Draco!"

Ignoring the complaint, he laid his best friend flat on his back. He let out a loud, obnoxious yawn and settled his head on Harry's chest, putting most of his weight on the small boy, trapping him.

"Pain in the arse, spoiled prat." Harry mumbled.

Eyes sealed close, Draco smirked.

Above him, he heard a sigh and then felt a hand gently combing through his hair, the soft touch actually lulling him back to sleep.

Harry was still peeved an hour later about being kept prisoner but his annoyance lightened as house-elves came into the room and fixed them breakfast. Not as excellent as the breakfast buffet Dobby and the other elves fixed for them at the manor but it was still good. A towering stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes and golden waffles they both drowned in maple syrup. Platters of muffins, scones, and cinnamon rolls. A large, piping-hot kettle of rich hot chocolate.

Harry's mood immensely brightened at the last bit of pancake and grew even more as they rushed over to the tree and tore through the wrapping paper and ribbons to unveil their presents. Fine clothes from Father and Mother that practically made up an entire wardrobe of winter clothes: cashmere jumpers, woolen robes and hats, even shoes and boots appropriate for the harsh weather. Severus gifted them both with books, for Harry more on Occlumency, for Draco more on Potions. Baskets of sweets from their friends, varying from cakes to candies to pounds of their favorite chocolate truffles. In addition to their candy baskets, Theo gave Draco a grooming kit that carried every hair product known to man while he gave Harry a library of close to two dozen books.

Granger seemed to follow Theo's gift-idea route and sent half a dozen books to Harry, adding more to his growing library. Lupin sent him a dozen more books and a wood carving of a wolf whose head was tilted up as if he were howling at the moon, partially shielding the smaller pup by its side. Black sent strange, thin disks Harry explained were albums, a tattered black leather jacket with chains and splotches of gray that looked like dust, and shirts featuring strange designs and quotes that were a bit of an eye-opener. Harry also received another Weasley sweater, the same jaded-green with the golden H in a slightly bigger size. Only this time Harry wasn't in a rush to put it on.

He stared at the sweater, folded it up, and set it aside with the other opened gifts. Draco couldn't help noticing that it sat inches away from the present pile, practically discarded. Just as he couldn't help feeling a small burst of pleasure pulsing in his chest from noticing that.

For their birthdays, they always prefer exchanging presents face-to-face. Christmas was no different. When they were little, they'd wait until their families met up at whoever was hosting the Christmas dinner and wait till they were excused from the table to swap presents. Since Harry came to live with Draco's family, they waited until all the other gifts were opened before they opened the ones they got for each other.

As the saying goes: best saved for last.

Draco's eyebrows quirked in curiosity as Harry handed him a large blue-tinted box with snowmen plastered on it. Inside were cookies, delicious-looking cookies stuffed with chocolate chunks and peanut butter, still warm with the help of a heating charm. It was sweet and all, made Draco's stomach rumble from inhaling the fresh-baked scent, but he didn't expect treats from Harry as a present.

"Try it." Harry smiled.

Draco frowned, but picked up a cookie, taking a small bite. Then in a nanosecond, his eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped open. Sweet Jesus, he didn't realize how incredible melted chocolate and warm peanut butter tasted thrown together. Then realized there was only one cookie that could taste so good. "Aunt Lily's!"

Harry nodded, his smile brightening. "I was stuck on what to get you. Somehow one of Mum's old cookbooks fell into my hands and I remembered how much you loved her chocolate peanut-butter cookies. You used to eat them by the pound."

"Did not." Sure, he sometimes ate as much as his hands could grab. There were even a few times he polished off three rows of cookies after Aunt Lily took them out of the oven. Times even where he finished off a whole plate. But he did have self-control, one that was better managed compared to Uncle James.

The teasing glint twinkling in Harry's eyes told him he didn't believe a word of his protest. "Anyway, I followed the recipe and made about two dozen. Enough to last you for a good…two minutes."

"Har-har, Potter." Draco lightly punched his arm.

The teasing glint twinkled mischievously. "So did I succeed?"

Draco nodded, letting etiquette be damned, shoving a whole cookie into his mouth. A few times house-elves tried their hand at making the cookie, but it wasn't the same. They either put too much peanut-butter, not enough chocolate. Burnt the sweets entirely or didn't melt them enough. Made them too thin instead of plump like he liked them. Harry got the recipe down to a T, making them just as wonderful as Draco remembered which wasn't all that shocking since he was the son of the great mastermind behind the treat.

"You definitely succeeded." Draco stuffed another one into his mouth.

"Glad to hear." Harry grinned and then reached inside the box for a cookie.

"Hey!" Draco slapped his hand away. "Mine!"

"Greedy prat."

Draco leveled his eyes with him. "You of all people, Potter, should know how possessive I can be. I don't share."

_Especially you_ , a voice hissed. An urgent, almost-ugly sound, laced with a great need that startled him.

Harry looked just as stunned, almost as if he could hear it, shifting his body just the tiniest bit away from Draco.

"So," he said, his voice light but Draco detected a forced strain behind it. "Where's my gift?"

Draco polished off another cookie and wiped his hands to clean off the crumbs. He then stood up from the floor and offered Harry his hand. Harry eyed it for a second or two, but accepted it, using Draco's arm to pull himself off the ground, then followed him out the door.

It was still early in the morning, so there weren't too many people in the hallway or the common room. There were less people out in the halls. Draco and Harry made their way through the halls and staircases up to the music room that was closer to the Ravenclaw's tower. It was one of his favorite rooms in the castle.

The main room was wide, open with enough space to fill in a whole house, decorated in smooth porcelain-white and dove-gray stoning. Instruments of all sorts from glistening-gold horns, chestnut cellos, and sterling flutes were stored by the walls or grounded by their stands. In one corner were three rows of black chairs lined up on top of each other where Flint must hold rehearsal for choir and band. The room was divided into three floors, the first floor reserved for the main practice, the other floors were broken up into rooms small enough for privacy but still big enough, already supplied with instruments that were soundproof outside where people could practice in peace.

Draco led Harry up to a private room on the second floor. Inside a fire was already crackling in the small mantle, the flames flickering and dancing, their reflection gleaming off the black grand piano set in the middle of the room.

"So this is where you've been disappearing off to last week?" Harry said.

"Well I certainly wasn't getting all chummy with the house-elves in the kitchen."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat next to him on the small black bench. Draco took out the sheet music he stuffed inside his night-robe, smoothen out the paper, and spread it out in front of them. Harry's eyes lit as he read the title of the song but kept quiet.

Draco flexed his fingers and played a few practice scales to loosen himself up. Once he was through, he took in a deep breath and played.

The simple chord fell from his fingers, smooth as honey; the tempo set low. Then came in the sweet, gentle melody softly ringing through the air, bouncing off the walls, just as it was in the Disney movie when the mother gorilla held the baby boy in her arms, soothing his tears with her singing.

He remembered being mesmerized by the scene and the song. He also remembered Harry leaning more against him, lying his head on Draco's shoulder while they watched the scene just as he did just then. And like before, Draco laid his cheek on his soft black hair as he continued to play.

When he reached the chorus, Harry decided to add vocals to the music, singing softly with the melody.

_'Cause you'll be in my heart_  
Yes, you'll be in my heart  
From this day on  
Now and forever more

_You'll be in my heart  
No matter what they say  
You'll be here in my heart, always_

Draco was almost sad when they reached the ending. The music was so beautiful. He felt so warm from the music thrumming through his fingertips, from the fire dancing in their home, from Harry's singing that was rich like the hot chocolate they drank, from their shared body heat. He didn't want it to end, but decided to make it count.

" _Always_." Draco whispered, looking right at Harry, whose eyes were closed, the expression on his face pure contentment.

The final notes faded away into the shadows. Silence hung over the room like a nice, toasty blanket. Draco reached for Harry's hand, feeling pleasure swell in his chest as Harry linked their fingers together.

"So," he said. "I take it you liked your gift?"

"Yes," Harry murmured, then cracked one eye opened that glanced up at Draco. "Although your playing went a little flat at the g-chord-"

"Shut up, Potter." Draco socked him in the arm. "Silly git."

Harry stuck his tongue out at him. "Spoiled prat."

"How I put you with you over the years only Merlin knows."

The git shot him a cheeky smile. "Trust me, I've often asked myself the same question."

Draco punched him in the arm again.

Around noon, they pulled themselves out of the music room, where Draco played more of their song and the two fooled around on the piano, and met up with their friends at the Great Hall for lunch. Over bites of roasted turkey with seasoned- potatoes and mouthfuls of Yorkshire pudding, Blaise passed around his gifts to the group.

Shiny white Christmas cards with steaks of red tied together in a bow that unveiled as they opened them. Inside was an image of a red-faced Theo leading Severus in a waltz , eyes more so focused on his black loafers than the hard, black eyes of their stoic Head of house glaring down at him. For Theo, their Jewish friend who was given a gold and white Hanukkah card with the menorah lit with all eight candles, his picture was of Pansy stepping on Severus's toes as she sent a nasty look Theo's direction. Her head whipped around as a growl snarled through Severus's teeth, his glare lethal enough to kill her on the spot.

"I figure the dance lesson was a perfect memory for the festive holidays." Blaise said.

Theo and Pansy traded a look with each other, closed their cards, and looked over at Blaise.

Pansy's lips curled into a sweet smile. "Merry Christmas, Zabini."

Then slammed an iron-hard fist against his arm.

" _Ow!"_

Theo smiled charmingly at his wounded roommate. "And a happy New Year."

A second later a fist slammed against the other arm, hitting him twice as hard.

" _Ow!_ "

"If there's one thing, Nott and I can agree on, Zabini," Pansy snapped. "It's the fact you're a complete, utter arse!"

"An arse that in a good five to ten years you two will be naming your first child after."

Theo nearly choked on his bite of turkey, his face Gryffindor-red. Pansy, just as red-faced, scowled and swung hard at his leg.

Blaise's face twisted into a grimace, revealing how painful that kick was. The grimace, though, smoothened into a smile as his dark eyes landed on Draco and Harry. "Then again, perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. I sense a little Blaise-honoree coming from these two more."

Harry almost spat out his water. Draco growled and stepped hard on his toes, hoping he crushed a few toes.

"Keep it up, Zabini, and you'll be spending the rest of Christmas in the hospital wing."

"My sympathies for dear Cupid have increased. Tenfold."

The four of them teamed up and threw punches at his arms, two for two.

A fresh layer of snow laid over the forest, so white and soft-looking like a plush, fresh blanket, completely untouched. Only it didn't stay that way for long. Soon the fresh sheets of snows were marred by footsteps and handprints as the group of friends were engaged in a fierce snowball fight, shrieks and laughter and curses echoing throughout the woods, filling the air.

The group was split into two teams. Team one had Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Crabbe. Team two had Harry, Daphne, Theo, and Goyle. Snowball fights were already an intense battle by itself, but the intensity heightened when the fight featured players with strong arms, quick reflexes, brute strength, and, of course, magic that created more snowballs faster than a pair of hands. And sent a stream of snow the opponent's way or cause piles of it to spill from the tree branches hanging over their heads.

Theo had targets fixed on Blaise, flinging countless snowballs at him. Pansy teamed up with him, turning against her own teammate, pelting him with snowballs along with the people from the other team.

Draco smirked as he caught sight of Daphne standing in the middle of a clearing, stumbling her way out of Crabbe's rapid snow-fire, dusting the stubborn flakes off herself. He curved a big snowball in his hand and whined back his arm.

Then nearly crashed to the ground as a heavy layer of snow dropped on top of him.

"Never attack an opponent when his back is turned!" Harry chirped behind him, doing a surprisingly accurate imitation of Moody's voice.

Daphne giggled. "Good one, Potter."

Draco wiped the snow off, shooting her a glare, and looked over his shoulder, switching the glare onto Harry.

He lowered his wand that was aimed up at the branch over Draco's head where the snow-ammo came from. He saluted to Draco with a smirk and took off running.

Draco charged after him, spelling dozens of snowballs from the ground, aiming them at Harry. Sometimes they missed their target and sometimes they made a direct hit, slamming against his back or his head. To his annoyance, though, whenever they did, Harry ran faster as the arctic hit gave him more speed.

"I'm gonna get you, Potter!"

"That is if you can catch me, Malfoy!"

Draco reached for his wand to fire more snowballs but instead got the wind knocked out of him as he tripped over a low branch, landing hard on his stomach. The force of his ungraceful fall caused snow to spill from the higher branches that rained down on him, layer upon layer. By the time he finally surfaced from this icy cocoon, he was thoroughly soaked, cold, and pissed. A deadly combination that would not play well in Harry's favor.

Growling, Draco created the biggest snowball with his hands that he planned on dumping on Harry's head and followed the trail of footsteps embedded in the snow. The trail led him up to the hill, taking him away from the forest and bringing him close to the castle. Groups of friends were engaged in their own snow-battles, pelting each other with snowballs. He passed by a moronic first-year Gryffindor who threw a snowball at the back of a eighth-year Slytherin, then ran the opposite direction when the Slytherin's head whipped around. A Hufflepuff who charged straight into a Ravenclaw that was seated by the side, watching the fight instead of participating, knocking them into a pile of snow. The weasel was being hit at all angles from his clan that turned on him.

Draco ended up getting hit by a few flying snowballs and any other time he'd response with a fierce retaliation that would have the fool buried six feet deep in now. Today, though, he had more important things to worry about. He was a man on a mission.

The trail took him to the courtyard littered with more students building snowmen, making snow angels, and flinging more snowballs at each other. He found Harry standing by one of the pillars, smiling.

Perfect. Draco patted the ball into a firmer shape and held it high.

The snowball slipped from his hands as he took a few steps closer, seeing Harry wasn't only smiling but laughing. And that he wasn't alone.

"You so sweet." Delacour cooed, giggling. She smiled that charming smile Draco imagined made buffoons' tongues drop from their mouths, wagging like dogs' tails, as she tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "Shame I already have a date to ze ball." She took a step closer to him. "I believe you and I would have made a splash together."

Oh, she was going to make a splash alright. In the lake Draco would push her into, offering her as a tasty French entrée to the giant squid.

"That'd be a bold move," Although Harry's voice didn't stammer like most fools did when they talked to Delacour, his cheeks were flushed light red, a very displeasing sight that made anger swirl inside Draco like a shimmering potion. "Considering the fact we're Champions competing against each other. Might send an interesting message to people."

Delacour shrugged, a touch of slyness slipping into her smile. "Perhaps one of unity."

Forget the squid. He'd drop her body at edge of the Forbidden forest and let the creatures lurking in there have their way with her.

"That's quite bold, Ms. Delacour." Harry commented.

Her words practically came out as a purr. "I'm told I'm quite a bold girl, Mr. Potter."

Her hand then _accidentally_  brushed against Harry's arm, moving from his wrist to his elbow.

Whistles blared in Draco's head like a referee calling foul.

He dove in, wiggling his way between them, setting the two a good five feet apart. "Hope I'm not interrupting?" He tried to play it off with a smile, but even Draco could tell it was less of a smile and more of a curved knife.

"No," Harry answered. "Well, not really, not anymore."

Draco studied his eyes. He remembered one of the instructors from the retreat saying when the Veela victim was under their spell, their eyes glazed over, appearing glassy. Harry's eyes were still clear and alert, thank Merlin.

"I see you two ave been aving fun in ze snow." Delacour's smile was the perfect vision of innocence.

Too bad for her, Draco wasn't fooled by it. He cut her with his eyes, and then threw a glare at Harry. "Some of us more than others."

Harry brushed aside the comment with a shrug and a smile. "Apparently Mother Winter favors a few lucky ones more than others." His eyes shifted upward onto Draco's hair. "You have some snowflakes in your hair."

Goddamn. He must have left his hat behind at the snow cocoon. Draco's hands reached up to his head. Harry halted the action by laying his hands over Draco's.

"No point brushing them off. It's still snowing."

Fair point, as much as he hated it. The annoyance didn't make much of an impact as it usually did. He was too focused on the solid weight of Harry's hands.

"Besides, it's a good look on you."

Draco tried to hold onto his annoyance that fired in his body as he dug his way through the snow, the fuel that pushed his feet to move up the steep hill. Only the annoyance crumbled like paper the longer Harry held his hands, the more he smiled at him. And...Draco felt his traitorous lips curve into a soft smile.

" _T_ _ous les deux._ "

Draco almost forgot Delacour was there till she spoke.

Harry was just as stunned by the reminder-and embarrassed. The red coloring his cheeks deepened as he dropped his hands and pulled away. It was only a step but to Draco the distance might as well have been an island.

"I'm just gonna-gonna head inside." Harry jerked a thumb at the castle. "Get some hot chocolate."

Draco was caught between begging-and this was something he'd never admit out loud, taking it straight to the grave-for Harry to stay and snapping at Delacour for being a pest. Instead what came out of his mouth was, "I'll see you there."

Harry nodded and walked into the castle with a little sprint in his step, like he was trying to seek shelter from the frigid cold. Or avoid this awkward moment.

"So zat's why."

Great Merlin, he was just starting to forget about her-and remembered that he missed a good opportunity to snap at her. Turning over to her, Draco realized that the moment might not be lost after all. He could still do it. Better yet, demand why the hell she was spending so much time with Harry.

The look on her face stopped him like a punch. For once, there was no teasing smiles, no knowing smirks, no annoying glint of amusement lighting her features. She looked completely somber as she watched Harry off, as if he was a puzzle she was trying to solve. "I wondered why you were so sad at ze retreat. Why you were so anxious to go ome." When her eyes slowly shifted back to Draco, the somber look remained, glowing extra bright. "And now I see why."

Heat flared inside him, mortifying heat as if she was the parent and he was the child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He tried fanning it away with explanations. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could easily see how miserable he was there. He didn't have the gene and yet was expected to participate in lessons and training. He was surrounded with pests he wanted to squish with his feet. As for Harry...it was none of her business.

A scowl slashed across Draco's face. "Is there a point you're trying to make here?"  _While you have a tongue to do so,_  he silently added.

Her lips shaped into a frown, an expression that was just as pretty as a smile. The sight only made fanned the flames of infuriation fuming in his chest, spreading like wildfire. "You are aware of it."

If this was another stupid Veela babble-crap, he was going to lost it. And if the Delacours ended up losing a daughter in the process, then so be it. "Aware of what?"

A brow rose high and her frown deepened. "I see I was right again. You are as interesting as you are stubborn, a trait zat might not play well in your future if you continue to do so."

Draco's frustration reached its' peak. "Spit it out, Delacour!"

"Bonds are truly beautiful things, Draco. Beautiful and frightening all at the same time. Beautiful because you meet zat one person destined to be yours as you are theirs. Someone who fate ensures zat you meet. But it can also be frightening. Ze idea of someone aving so much power over you, ze power to strengthen you as well as end you. Someone who knows every idden vulnerability and crack in your armor. It's overwhelming. Especially if ze Veela's destined alf is someone already close to zeir eart. Ze lines are blurred and everything becomes entangled. It makes ze case more complex, ze bond more difficult."

Draco glared at her.

"It is challenging in a way when a bond is already built between zem. One zat is born as ze two grow close, strengthening over ze years. You are aware of ze role zey play in your life just as you play a role in zeirs. And zat is fine for you. Then along ze way ze heritage develops and things start to change. Everything, including the bond. Makes everything more intense, overpowering, and confusing. Ze Veela in some cases grows scared and pulled away. Because zey are too overwhelmed for two very common reasons."

Draco swallowed down a lump that was wedged in his throat.

"Ze first is easily understandable. Zey fear what zey feel is not of their own but because of ze Veela. Believe that is ze Veela making say zem certain things, feel certain things. However zat's not true. Veela eritage is just another fragment, one of many pieces zat make up the whole picture. A simple part that makes you you. Like you being a blond. Being alf-French. Or even being a Malfoy. Ze feelings are not forced or enchanted. Think of it as…a love potion. If ze person already olds feelings for another and ze two lock eyes, zen nothing will change. You can't spell what's already inside. It's no different than ze bond. Ze feelings already exist but zey are enhanced."

The lump in his throat was dry as a cactus, big as a snitch.

"The other is understandable, but in all the more tragic. At least in my eyes"

The lump grew from the root of his mouth to his throat. How he was able to get words out was a mystery. "And what would that be?"

"Fear." Delacour declared.

The word was like a blow to the gut.

She went on, her intent gaze never faltering away from his eyes. "Fear of rejection. Fear of being at ze end of an unrequited affair where zeir feelings are only a small measure compared to ze vast ones you ave for zem. Fear zat if you are brave enough to pursue, it will shatter right before your eyes and what you had will never be ze same again. Or worse, it would be as if there never was."

Draco sucked in a sharp breath. Then another and another, his balled fists clenching tighter with each intake. Emotions-crazed and explosive and maddening-colliding and crashing against his insides, against each other. He struggled to seal them in with a cap by mustering all of its power into the nastiest glare he could make.

"You and Granger should really get better acquainted. The same pestering piece cut from the same cloth."

He resisted the urge to spit at her face or sting her with a hex and stormed towards the castle.

"Draco."

Damn his cursed feet for pausing.

"Zere is a blessing as well as a curse in everything. Zat is simply ze nature of life. Ze Veela mating is no different." Students were running and shrieking about, but somehow his ears still caught the sound of Delacour taking a step closer to him. "On one and, great appiness can be shared between ze Veela and zeir chosen, ze sort of appiness many dream about and only few are lucky to have. On ze other, ze chosen can just as easily find their own appiness. With someone else. All ze while ze Veela has no choice but to watch zem, wallowing in the depths of their sorrow and regret because of pride and fear. Such a thing is so agonizing, so unbearable; zose who experience it said it was like dying. Or would have preferred zat to what zey had to deal with."

He needed his words. Words, breaths, anything. Anything at all other than standing like a damn statue.

"I truly ope, Draco, your fate will not come to zat."

He took in a deep breath that came from his very core, making sure each word came out from his mouth was a sharp bite. "Stay the hell away from me and Harry, Delacour, or I'll add a crimson smile to that pretty face of yours."

* * *

In between hours of more fun in the snow, cups of hot chocolate, and trying out their gifts, time flew by. Dusk approached, painting the sky midnight blue dotted with thousands of stars that shined like diamonds. The friends separated, heading into their dorms to prepare for the ball.

A soft smile spread across Draco's face as he admired his reflection in the mirror of his dresser. He looked good-better than good. He looked incredible, thanks in part to the sleek black suit Mother's most trusted tailor made for him that was crafted in the richest material of black. His skin was smooth and fair like porcelain. His hair was combed neatly, not a strand out of place.

He looked like a lord, the one his father was, the one he hoped to be one day. Powerful, untouchable.

There was only one thing needed to complete the look. Draco eyed the large blue jar of hair gel sitting on the dresser by his right. He unscrewed the cap and reached inside.

"Don't."

Draco's gaze drifted up to Harry, who smiled at him while he was struggling with his tie. "I need to make sure my hair look perfect."

"When doesn't your hair look perfect, Malfoy?" Harry teased. The glint in his eyes deepened as they glanced at his hair. "And honestly I think you look better without it."

Draco stole a glance at his reflection. He supposed gel would diminish the look. After all, his hair was set and styled perfectly. Any other additions could risk ruining it. "Fair enough."

Harry gave him another smile and turned his attention onto his tie. Draco took the time to study his profile. He was dressed in a black custom-made suit that was similar to Draco's but with a different coat and a white silk shirt underneath, red cuff-links. It wasn't a surprising sight since they wore suits to dozens of balls and parties his parents took them to, but tonight it was different. Maybe because he would see how much his friend was changing. A hint of childhood innocence still lingered on the familiar face, but everyday it dimmed more and more, his features growing into that of the man he'd be one day. One with a strong jaw-line, a layer of strength and maturity settling on his face, looks that weren't classically beautiful but still stunning. Not the way Draco knew his were that were polished and described as aristocratic. However there was something alluring about Harry, something that captured the eye, a beauty in its own.

Warmth lashed at Draco's insides like a whip.

He swallowed-or made a poor attempt at it-and swatted Harry's hands away from the tie, taking over. "Let me, you're hopeless."

"Are not." Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

Hopeless and immature. Draco snickered. It amazed him Harry lived with them for so long and still couldn't fix his tie. His poor attempts made the thing look like a twisted ball, nearly ruining the material.

It was a rich crimson color that surprisingly went well with Harry's coloring, even though green was more his color.

As Draco undid the twisted knot and started over, a thought slipped into his mind, causing heat to lick his insides. Of him not tying the knot but undoing it, watching the silk material slide off Harry's neck. Then the jacket, then the shirt after he was through with their three dozen buttons. Peeling away layers that hid soft, lightly-tanned skin underneath.

The thought left Draco breathless, his hands shaky. He stole a glance at Harry, who was still as a statue, staring back at him intently. His breathing shaky as the faintest shade of red flooded across his face.

"There." Draco said. "All done."

"T-thanks." Harry mumbled.

Both were painfully aware that Draco's hands were still on him. The notice became more prominent as one of his hands lowered, sliding past the tie down to Harry's chest. He could feel Harry's body heat that practically seared through the thin material. Felt the hard, rapid pounding of his heart that trembled beneath Draco's hand, beating more frantically as that same hand toyed with one of the shirt buttons.

He took a step forward. Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Gazes dropped to lips.

"Potter!" Blaise knocked hard on the other side of the door. "Get Malfoy out of the damn bathroom and get a move on it!"

Draco never wanted to rip Blaise's tongue out and tie it around his throat more than he did at that moment.

Harry cleared his throat and took a step back. "We, um, we better go."

What else could he do at a time like that other than nod and follow his best friend out of the room? Doing that, along with picturing countless scenarios on how he'd end Zabini's life.

The soon-to-be dead man waited for them in the common room where other Slytherins were milling about, heading off to the ball or waiting for their dates. Blaise didn't look half bad in his suit that colored in a shade of gray so dark, it was nearly black. Daphne was by his side looking radiant in her dress. The palest shade of ice-blue embroidered with dozens of shapes that looked to be a cross between hearts and diamonds whose sparkling satin glowed from the lights of the room, covering every inch of the dress. The light bodice clung to her figure, showing off her slender waist, and while the full skirt flared out, pooling around her feet. Her blond hair was done up in a bun with braids entwined and twin stray strands hanging by her face.

"Daphne, you look incredible." Harry said.

"Thank you." she smiled.

Theo came in with his date, decked out in a black suit with a bright blue vest underneath and matching tie. The color went perfectly with his date. Patil decided to go with her traditional native clothes, dressed in bright shades of blue andt purple. Sets of golden bangles chimed from her wrists. Her dark wavy hair was let down, the thick curls bouncing off her shoulders.

She looked a great deal happier than her sister, dressed in similar clothes but in bright pinks and oranges, a frown marring her face as she trailed behind her twin.

The frown was easily explained as her date followed behind, looking just as miserable.

"Ron. I didn't know you were taking-" Harry's eyes widened as he took in his clothes. "Woah."

Woah indeed. What Weasley had on….the words  _rags_  and  _fashion-challenged_  seemed too kind to use. Draco wasn't even sure if what he had on should even be considered clothes. Scrapes seemed more fitting, the type people wouldn't even donate to the less than fortunate. An old jacket in a nasty shade of reddish-brown overstuffed with so many frills and laces. It looked more like a dress and possibly would have been considered presentable in the later 19th century with matching pants that barely covered his ankles. His vest was an odd gold-patterned thing that looked like it was designed in the dark, three sizes too big for the weasel. And for the finishing touch, a purple big tie that was knotted into a poorly-done ruined bow that sagged like a withering flower.

"It was Charlie's." Weasley croaked. "It was the best Mum could do."

"I…" Harry shook his head, unable to find the words.

Fortunately for the weasel, Draco had no such problem. "Well, congratulations, Weasel-bee. I didn't think it was possible but you look even repulsive than you usually do."

Weasley growled at him, shooting a dark glare, and looked over at Harry. "Did Hermione tell you who she's going with?"

A frown crossed Harry's face. "Didn't say anything about it. I thought you were taking her."

Weasley shook his head. "I asked and she told me no. Actually, yelled at me is more like it. Made a big fuss about it and everything."

Draco couldn't blame her. If he were a girl and asked by Weasley, he'd let his refusal be known loud and clear, loud enough to actually startle the dead. Weasley's date looked as if she wished she took that route or wiggled her way out of the invitation, her eyes glancing over at the Weasel's attire and shaking her head, her frown deepening.

"Speaking of dates," the happier Patil twin said. "Luna's already waiting for you in front of the Ravenclaw tower, Harry." A glint sparked in her eyes. "I think you're gonna be blown away."

_What the hell was that suppose to mean?_

Harry only smiled, patting Draco on the back, and heading off to get his date.

Draco tried pushing away the nausea that pricked his stomach as he watched him walk away.

"Are you ready for me, darling Dray?"

Muttering to himself, Draco rolled his eyes and turned over to Pansy, his eyes widening as she walked into the room.

Actually, she didn't even walk. She pretty much sashayed her way in, a twinkle sparkling in her eyes. Pansy was wrapped in silk tulle. The color of her dress was light shade of pink, so pale it was almost white. The V-neckline of the dress was so low; it crossed the borders of daring. Beaded pearls laid over the sleeves, crossing over to the neckline, entwining around the waist. The bodice of the dress was nearly sheer, showing off everything but giving that illusion of secrecy. The skirt was so wide, masses of silk tulle spreading and floating at her feet like a wave of fabric, turning with every step she took. Her makeup was light with some lipstick here and blushes there. She used a spell to make her hair elbow-length long and styled it in a complicated hairdo that was half-up, half-down, laced with braids

Blaise let out a low whisper. "Well, hello Parkinson."

Draco looked over at Theo, curious to see what he made of the dress. Theo's mouth was wide open, nearly kissing the ground, his eyes just as big. He looked almost as if he were enchanted, under some sort of spell, until he felt Draco's eyes on him. He blinked, cleared his throat, and fidgeted with his jacket.

"Parkinson," he said. "You look…you actually look….really nice."

Draco stared at him, flabbergasted. Blaise and Daphne were just as stunned. He could count the number of times on one hand when Theo actually paid Pansy with a compliment and four out of five of them were forced by his mother who felt like he should say something nice. The only time was because he actually wanted to and Pansy repaid him with a shove into the mud.

This time she accepted it with a slight curtsy. "Thank you, Nott. You look just as adorable as your pretty little date." She cut her eyes over to Patil. "Why, Padma, that skirt is just lovely."

She blinked, lost for words. She turned to Theo for direction and he offered a shrug, just as put-off. "Um, thanks, Pansy."

Her smile widened. "It's just long enough to hide those scrawny little chicken legs."

There was the Pansy he knew.

Theo and his date's stunned expressions were knocked off by dark frowns. Theo charged as if he were about to strike her, but Patil held him back, directing them towards the door.

Blaise snickered as he rose from his chair. "I have a good feeling this is going to be a very interesting night."

Draco rolled his eyes, although there was a part of him that actually agreed with him.


	34. A Night to Remember (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This so far is one of the LONGEST chapters I did for Stages. Longest and also hands down of my favorite chapters ;) 
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter will contain some maturish scenes. Just giving you a headsup. Also asking for prayer since tomorrow I'm taking my second to last final, which is gonna kill me.

Draco had to hand it to the committee in charge of organizing the ball. Walking into the ballroom was almost like walking into a winter wonderland.

A gentle cascade of snowflakes fluttered down from the ceiling, sprinkling onto their heads, their clothes, vanishing from sight as soon as they landed. White, silver, and pale blue that was almost an off shade of white were the theme colors with pure white being the prominent color. White silk draped over the railings, coiled around the pillars. Large bouquets of fully-blossomed peonies that were like bundles of snow held in glittering silver vases were posted at every white-linen table. White candles were seen from almost every corner of the room, being held by silver, slender figures that looked like angel warriors, hundreds cluttered together by the both sides of the grand staircase, all of them giving the room a soft, warm glow. A beautiful, gigantic chandelier hung over their heads, the crystals glistening like diamond stars.

By the left side of the room, past the dining tables, were tables upon tables of refreshments with drinks of all kind, including alcoholic ones heavily guarded by teachers, appetizers from bacon-wrapped shrimp to stuffed potato bites, and sweets of all kind from cupcakes in every flavor and cream-puffs. In front of the room was the orchestra, all decked out in black, playing soft renditions of Christmas songs and classical music. Flitwick in front of them, head tilted back, his whole body swaying as if he were drunk by the sound, his conducting hand waving back and forth. Next to the orchestra was a thirty-foot Christmas tree covered with silver and golden ornament balls, streams of silver tinsel, and brightly-glowing lights that contained actual fairies, with an angel perched on the top.

"Not bad." Pansy commented, her dark eyes scanning around the room.

Draco hummed in agreement. Definitely not up to pureblood standards, certainly not as elegant as the balls held at the Manor, but it was still better than what he expected.

"Welcome, welcome!"

Rolling his eyes, Draco turned his attention over to the center of the room, where the old goat glided in, hand in hand with McGonagall.

"Welcome all to the annual Yule Ball."

The words were met with rounds of applause, even though Draco spotted some weak spots in the mix, including his own.

"First off, allow me to say that I wish all of you a very, very Happy Christmas." Another flutter of applause with some replies of the sentiment added in there. "As tradition deems, the ball shall commence with a waltz led by the Tri-Wizard Tournament participants. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our Champions."

Students quickly parted to the left and right as the front doors opened with the four Champions gliding into the room, filed in a single line, arms linked with their dates. Delacour led the group, a living goddess incarnate in a thin-strapped, silver dress that sparkled underneath the beaming lights. Her escort was a seventh-year Ravenclaw who wore a blindingly-bright grin as if he were the luckiest guy in the world.

Behind her was Krum in his red uniform jacket and black trousers, looking like the Nutcracker. Instead of the ballerina Clara as his date, it was a girl dressed in soft-blue with a skirt that flowed as easily as the ocean, dark hair tied into a bun with loose curls framed around her face-

"Merlin's balls!" Weasley exclaimed. "Hermione!"

Seemed Weasley's brain was still distorted from the potion fumes.

Pansy tapped Draco's arm, her eyes narrowing, then widening. "Oh my, he's not kidding. It is her."

Draco studied the girl more closely, and then his mouth nearly dropped. It was Granger but at the same time it wasn't. The Granger he knew was an insect with fizzy, poofy bush for hair that was begging to be chopped off, loaded with over twenty books in her hands, back hunched over by her bag that carried even more books, with that  _I'm unbelievably brilliant_  expression on her face Harry might find endearing but Draco found annoying. The girl clinging at Krum's arm wasn't an insect. She was an actual girl, who was almost, actually pretty with her hair smooth, her eyes sparkling, and her dress that was acceptably fashionable.

Just goes to show what time, effort, and  _a lot_  of spells could whip up.

Weasley's jaw was practically kissing the ground. His date had to smack it back into place.

Diggory came after them, Chang by his side. He was dressed in black robes, Chang in a kimono-type dress colored an off-whitish gold. The pair shot smiles at the crowd, but most of those smiles were aimed at each other.

When the last pairing came out, Draco found out why Harry added red to his suit.

Delacour obviously took home title as most-beautiful out of the girls while Chang and Granger managed to hold their own, but there wasn't a doubt in Draco's or anyone else's mind that Lovegood's look took home most-creative. The girl was a butterfly, a humanized butterfly with golden-orange wrapped around her waist, fanning out into wings at the knee, with color from the crimson-red bodice leaking onto the skirt and the black white-dotted tips of the wings leaking across the bodice. The dress was adorned with crystals and black ostrich feathers added to the bodice. Her hair was piled up into the strangest bun Draco had ever seen that was less of a ballerina-knot and more of a cocoon. With a big, red and golden butterfly hair-clip clasped at the center.

She didn't look as crazy as he thought she would. In fact Lovegood looked good, outrageous but good. Good enough that eyes widened, jaws dropped, and comments fluttered. As good as she looked; Draco's eyes examined her for only a second, and then easily shifted over to her date, his gaze remaining there.

Simplicity was believed to go a long way. He had never been much of a believer of the less-is-more policy, but he was starting to become one. Unlike the others who had gone out with their clothes with Krum adding golden pins to his jacket, Declaour's date armed with accessories that matched her sparkly theme, Harry stood out, outshining them all with his simple suit featuring a few splashes of red.

An ache throbbed in Draco's chest, expanding like a twisted branch as he watched him.

The Champions took their places in the center of the ballroom, standing apart from each other, with Krum and Diggory on one side and Harry and Delacour on the other. Flitwick raised his conducting instrument and waved it once, commencing a sharp riff from the violins and flutes chiming their way in. At the sound, the Champions bowed to each other before passing through, taking slow, precise steps. They took one step forward before the men twirled their ladies, placed hands around waists and on shoulders, clasped their free hands together, and began their dance.

Each couple was lost in their world. Diggory and Chang exchanged smiles and low murmurs. Granger was giggling like a schoolgirl from whatever Krum was telling her, causing Weasley's scowl to tighten and his eyes to narrow. Delacour's date was practically drooling out an ocean, hanging onto every honey-dripped word, completely under her spell. Harry and Lovegood looked cozy, just as much if not more than Diggory and Chang. It was a sickening dance in itself. Harry said something to Lovegood, she'd laugh. She'd said something back to Harry, and a smile or chuckle would come out of him, filling Draco with the great need to hit something.

When the pairs separated and pulled their partners back, Harry had done so with more force than necessary, causing Lovegood slammed into him. The two stumbled, struggling to get back on their feet. Embarrassment crept into Harry's face, splashing light patches of red onto his cheeks, but it quickly melted away as Lovegood said something that made him shake his head with a small, fond smile. Grinning, more words poured from her mouth as she placed a hand against his cheek.

A hand Draco planned on chopping off in eighteen different ways.

It was either endless hours spent practicing or luck orchestrating every step that made the dance come out as flawlessly, clean-cut as it did. Sure, they were a few bumps here and there (99.9% of which came from Harry) but overall it went well.

Draco's eyes stayed on Harry from beginning to end.

After what seemed like hours, Flitwick sounded off the orchestra with a clang from the triangle. The Champions accepted the applause, bowing to the crowd and to each other.

Weasley nearly sprinted off to Granger until Patil yanked him back, pushing him over to their table.

Just as the committee outdid themselves with the décor, the elves outdid themselves with the food. Three different types of salad drizzled with dressing that was thick but not too heavy. Rice and vegetables and shrimp thrown together into a surprisingly good dish. Roasted chicken, turkey, even lamb chops. Potatoes packed with a flavor Draco couldn't name, but were a very popular dish with the crowd.

The happier Patil wasn't as easily sold on them. A frown curved her mouth as she picked at it with her fork, cutting through the skin and releasing steam into the air.

"It's not gonna bite you." Pansy said.

Patil glanced up, distrust in her eyes. Pansy rolled hers, scooping up another helping, making a show of chewing slowly before swallowing it down.

"See? It's good. Scout's honor." Pansy nudged Pati's plate closer to her.

Patil glanced at her, then over at Theo who shrugged. She hesitantly took in a bite, and then another after tasting it and realizing she was still in one piece.

"Honestly." Pansy muttered with another eye roll.

An hour later, the floor was littered with dancers, some moving gracefully, some awkwardly to the soft music pouring from the orchestra. Longbottom looked to be over the moon at the fact he managed to lead the she-weasel without tripping. Blaise surprisingly managed to keep his hands at respectable places, though Draco suspected it had to do with the sharp smiles Daphne sent him that warned of limb-loss if they moved any lower. Theo and the happier Patil were lost in their own bubble, chatting warmly, exchanging smiles.

Draco was sure if Pansy saw them, she'd happily pop that bubble. Only she steered her gaze clear of them. He wondered if it was a goal she set for herself for tonight or the fact she was basking from the attention her daring dress was giving her.

From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Harry and Granger standing near Weasley who was still at the table, his date long gone. Judging by the frowns on the weasel and insect's faces, they were locked in an argument. Judging by the half-annoyed, half-exhausted look on his face, Harry was struggling to keep the peace.

Unable to resist the pull of potential drama, Draco danced his way over to them. Pansy followed his lead, just as curious, just as hungry.

There was enough distance between them to avoid suspicion of eavesdropping but they were close enough for their ears to make out every word of the conversation.

"He's from Durmstrang!" Weasley spat. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You're-you're-" It was quite a show to watch the weasel struggle with his vocabulary. " _fraternizing with the enemy_ , that's what you're doing!"

Granger's mouth fell open.

"Don't be stupid!" she snapped once she retrieved her slacked jaw. "The enemy? Honestly-who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

A model? As in a life-size one? Dear Merlin, the weasel was actually an obsessed fangirl.

Weasley met the words with an ugly scowl. "I s'pose he asked you come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Granger, the pink patches of her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened-trying to get him to join  _spew_ , were you?"

"Ron." There was a warning laced in Harry's tone.

"No, I wasn't!" Granger protested. "If you  _really_  want to know, he-he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hasn't been able to pick up the courage!"

"Yeah, well-that's his story." said Weasley nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaoff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang out with…He's just trying to get closer to Harry-get inside information on him-or get near enough to jinx him-"

"Ron, enough!" Harry demanded.

Granger placed a hand on Harry's arm, stopping him in place. She looked as though Weasley slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered. "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not once-"

"Really-"

Granger cut him off again. "Secondly, him asking me to the ball has nothing do with the tournament. A tournament, which let me remind you, isn't about the tasks. It's about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!"

"No it isn't!" Weasley shouted. "It's about winning!"

People were starting to stare at them.

"Ron," Harry said. "I don't have a problem with Hermione coming with Krum-"

He ignored him, snarling at the insect. "Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are."

" _Don't call him Vicky!_ "

Granger spun on her heel and stormed off across the dancefloor, disappearing into the crowd. Weasley watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face.

He turned over to Harry and was surprised by the frown he received. "What?"

"I was right after all," Harry said. "You're an even bigger idiot than I thought. And a jerk."

Shaking his head, he ventured back into the dancefloor, leaving a stunned Weasley behind.

"Trouble in paradise." Pansy commented, a satisfied smile curling her lip as if she gotten her full.

Draco snorted. "More like trouble in the dump."

"Very-" Pansy was cut off by a loud, frantic scream.

Draco glanced over. A crowd was beginning to form around Theo and Patil, who was hunched over, face buried against his chest, hands gripping onto his jacket, as if she needed an anchor to keep her afloat.

"Padma!" Weasley's vanishing date reappeared, racing over to her sister.

The girl seemed set on keeping her face hidden for the rest of the night, but her sister wasn't having it. She grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her back.

What beheld the crowd ignited gasps and winces.

Patil's face had taken on a nasty, swollen-red color, completely blown up-her cheeks, her mouth, even her eyes looked as if they had taken in twenty straight punches in a row.

"Holy…" Draco muttered.

"Did you have lobster? By the gods, Padma, you know you're allergic." The girl made a low, whiny sound that was a weak plea of innocence. Fuming, the clear-faced Patil girl whirled over to Theo. "Did you give her lobster?"

"No, I didn't. She didn't even have lobster. Just some chicken, salad, pasta, and-"

Pansy gasped besides Draco, covering her agape mouth with her hand, eyes widening into saucers. "The potatoes."

Realization hit Draco. The potatoes were seasoned with a flavor he couldn't name. Now he knew why. It wasn't a seasoning used on them. It was a shellfish, one which left the worst sort of aftertaste on Patil.

She was whisked away by her sister and a professor who were taking her straight to the hospital wing. Theo took a step forward to follow and was held back by the fierce glare the other Patil shot. He watched them off, bewildered. Bewilderment that darkened to seething rage as he locked eyes with Pansy, storming over to them.

"Nott, I-"

"Just when I think you can't sink any lower, Parkinson, you manage to outdo yourself."

The shock in her eyes vanished as they flashed in anger. "You honestly think I had something to do with that?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if you did. You always find new ways to get under my skin. Wouldn't shock me at all if you decided to make Padma collateral damage just to get back at me. Merlin knows you can't stand the idea of me being happy for once."

"I-you arrogant-" Bright splotches of red spread on Pansy's face. "Don't flatter yourself, Nott! You're hardly worth the effort."

"And you're hardly worth anything!" Theo snapped.

Pansy stepped back, looking as if Theo had struck her across the face.

"You know how I keep saying the perfect gift you can give me is silence. Well, I thought of a better one. You staying out of my life.  _For good_."

"Nott-"

Theo stormed out of the room.

Pansy had no choice but to watch him go. Her arms were crossed against her chest, deep and quick breaths moving in and out, tears pooling her eyes, her body quivering as badly as her lips.

"Pans." Draco reached out for her shoulder.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip and took off.

A part of Draco wanted to console her, keep her company, but he knew from experience it was better to leave Pansy be. At least for awhile until the worst of the storm had passed over. Seeing her before then carried the risk of being the target of that storm and end up getting stuck by a manicured-claw.

With that in mind, Draco wandered around. He chatted up with Blaise and Daphne over what happened with Theo and Pansy. Watched Crabbe and Goyle who were balancing time between keeping their dates company and grabbing more dessert. He even had the pleasure of watching McGonagall drag off by the ear amateurs trying to spike the punch bowl and Severus breaking apart couples standing too close or getting too friendly.

"If you dunderheads wish to procreate, then spare us from the revolting, stomach-churning travesty and do so in the privacy of your rooms."

Snickering, Draco helped him to the fresh batch of bacon-wrapped shrimp the serves brought out, washing it down with a glass of sparkling apple cider. He picked up another, and then caught sight of Harry, arms wrapped around Lovegood, looking so happy as they swayed to the music.

The cider churned uneasily in his stomach like rotten milk.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was venturing into the sea of the bodies, pushing his way through. He slid in between Harry and Lovegood, breaking apart their arm-chain, smiling brightly at them.

"Mind if I cut in?"

"I-"

Lovegood smiled. "It's alright, Harry. Clearly Draco wants your attention and is impatient to get it. I'll just go help myself to some of those red velvet cupcakes and leave you two alone."

She was already gone before either one could get a word out.

"She's very-" Draco began.

Harry nodded once. "I know. She's a bit strange but she's a really cool girl."

_One you seem so fond of_ , a voice hissed in Draco's head.

Flint and his band ended off the fast, upbeat song they were playing that made people move and jump around. The orchestra regrouped and slowed things down with a soft, slow melody that brought a sense of intimacy.

Couples swayed lightly, holding each other close. Draco glanced over at Harry, marveling at the way the candlelight reflected in his eyes, bringing out the golden specks hidden in the beautiful sea of emerald-green.

He took one step forward and offered him his hand. "Dance with me."

Only a fool would think the words were a question.

Harry was no fool though. His gaze dropped from Draco's eyes to his hand, then went back up again. His emerald-green, golden-specked eyes were filled with so many questions, thoughts; it was hard to separate one from the clutter.

Draco's lip curled. "Scared, Potter?"

Determination glowed in those eyes. "You wish."

Harry placed his hand in Draco's. Draco brushed his thumb against the soft skin and pulled him onto the dance floor.

Everything then…everything then…either because they often had to practice steps together under the critical eye of their dance instructor or because, like everything else, it was another connection that sparked between them without the need for words, another factor that simply made them them just fell into place. Draco wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Harry laid his right hand on Draco's shoulder. Their free hands were held up, clasped together.

One step, one shared look, and they were gone.

Transported out of the ball, away from the crowd, and into a different world. One where space was infinite, time was meaningless, and it was just him and Harry. A world that was warm like a comforting blanket, as beautiful as a fresh sheet of snow covering the ground. A world where he was Draco, Harry was Harry, he was Draco's and Draco was his.

Draco made a turn, Harry followed in suit. Harry eased away, Draco pulled him right back. Doing it all without breaking the lock of their eyes.

The tempo of the music, the dramatic flair of so many layers and emotions woven into a hauntingly beautiful melody rose dramatically-as did the atmosphere between them, growing warmer and warmer. With each wail of the violin, each rift of the bass, each flutter from the flute that blended in together, the world began to spin, matching the speed of the music, making everything so dizzying, so distorted. A thrilling ride Draco never wanted to get off from.

The hand that was resting on Harry's hip slipped up, sliding into the jacket like it was seeking shelter. Harry's eyes widened but not a word of protest came out.

Boldness sweeping across his body like waves, Draco let his hand wander to the back, stroking the lower section almost lazily like he was a painter letting his paintbrush decide how they were going to proceed, moving back and forth, fingers spreading and reaching higher, reaching lower.

Harry's lips moved but it wasn't to protest. It was to clamp down his lower lip, full and soft-looking like it was filled with something sweet, to suppress a sound that was too low, too rasped for a simple sigh.

_Mine._

His fingers were like spiders, crawling up Harry's spine before gliding back down.

Harry bit his lip harder.

_Mine._

"Dra-"

Suddenly, silence slammed against them. The song ended and the world froze, quivering and crumbling underneath their feet. Their world that was so nice, so warm, so utterly theirs shattered into glass, plunging them back to reality.

A reality where things were too loud too crowded. A reality where the orchestra was switching things up with an upbeat rendition of  _Christmas Pipes_ , calling more dancers to the floor and for people to lend their vocals for the song.

"I-um-" Harry dropped his hands and pulled back. Draco had no choice but to take back his hand that was already missing the sweet warmth. "I better get back to Luna."

Draco didn't want him to. More than anything, he wanted him to stay. Wanted them to go back to their world. But the request sounded silly even to him, people were starting to stare, and so many thoughts collide into like flying Bludger balls.

"Okay," slipped out of his mouth before his mind caught up with it.

He watched Harry walk away, back to his date who greeted him with a bright smile and inserted herself into his arms.

The sight made every sip of cider, every bite from the feast lurched nauseatingly in his stomach. He sealed his lips to keep in the bile flooding his mouth, threatening to burst out.

"Having fun, darling?"

He had no idea how long Pansy was standing beside him until she spoke. He nearly jumped at the sound, but managed to keep his composure. He spared a glance over at her. Her lips were curved into a charming smile, but her eyes were rimmed red and glassy. He didn't comment about it. He knew he'd get a black eye or claw-marred face if he did.

"Not really." he finally answered. "You?"

"No, but," She gestured for him to step closer and flashed a peek of the item she hid behind her back. A bottle of liquor she snuck out from the refreshments. "I think I know how we can make it better."

Based on the amber color of the drink, he knew it wasn't champagne.

"Care for some fun?"

He took another glance at the bottle, then over at the dancefloor. This time Harry was laughing with and twirling around the she-weasel while Lovegood was across from them, leading Longbottom in a quick step.

He turned back to Pansy, who arched her brow at him and jiggled the bottle.

"You know what, why not?"

* * *

Draco, of course, helped himself to champagne at nearly all the balls and parties his parents hosted and been invited to. Indulged in a few glasses of wine from time to time that were spiced with flavor. But he never had anything quite like bourbon.

It was like drinking iron, searing-hot iron that burnt his throat as it went down. Hard to take in, hard to keep in. He nearly spat out the first sip.

Pansy giggled, watching him from her bed. She kicked off her heels and pulled most of the pins from her hair. She smirked at the annoyed glare he shot her. "Just pitiful."

"Like you can do better?"

Pansy reached for the bottle and poured herself a full cup in the glass timber. She tilted back her head, chugging the glass down in several large gulps, wiping her mouth clean as she set down her empty cup.

"What?" she smiled innocently at the utter astonishment written on his face. "Think a pureblood girl can't drink?"

"Show-off."

She winked.

Refusing to be shown up by anyone, Draco threw back his head and swallowed down the rest of his glass. The process wasn't as clean as Pansy's was, took much more than several gulps, but he managed to get the whole drink down and keep it inside without gagging.

"Well done, Dray." Pansy applauded for him. "A few more and you'll be drinking like a pro."

"Piss off."

She poured him another cup, then one for herself, clanking her glass against his.

The second glass was just as nasty as the first one but it was a bit easier to take in. The third glass went more smoothly, his tongue slowly adjusting to the taste. By the fourth, the drink had completely lost its hardness. After the fifth…or the sixth…or maybe the seventh-he couldn't even remember; he long lost count.

Quickly the bottle was getting less and less full, going half, then third. Drinks were chugged down. Giggles slipped from mouths, watching one trying to get the words out of their tangled tongue, attempting a hand to sound out the words, which made them laugh harder and called for more drinks.

Draco started to feel warm, too warm, the liquor floating in his stomach, swimming in his system. He got so warm that he tugged off his jacket, tossing it aside somewhere, then kicked off his shoes to get more comfortable. He even pulled off his tie and undid some of the top buttons of his shirt to relieve some of the heat.

He laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Pansy was lying on her side; black hair spilling over the pillow, drawing what he thought looked to be figure-eighths on the sheets. He licked his lips, still tasting the liquor on his mouth.

"This ball…" he croaked. "officially-"

"Sucks Merlin's balls?" Pansy said, getting in a quick laugh.

He was actually going to say-he was going to say…A frown tugged at his lips. Huh. He had a thought but it slipped away. Didn't matter though. What Pansy said was a pretty good answer, a very good one.

She sighed. "It's still Christmas. More time for wishes and all that." A moment of silence fell over them like a sheet, molding onto their skins, until she broken through it, saying, "You know what I hate?"

It took awhile for the question to sink into his head that felt like it was underwater. "W-what?"

"Being accused of a stupid crime you didn't do."

That was what she hated? Boring. The sound that came out of Draco's mouth was a mix between a scoff and a dry chuckle. "We're Slytherins, Pans. Being accused of something comes with the neat little green package."

Pansy shoved her hand against his shoulder. "I don't mean being accused by buttheads from the other houses. They can go to hell. Scrambled and fried. I mean-I mean…" She grabbed onto the bedspread with her fist. "Being accused by buttheads in our own house."

"Pans-"

"I wouldn't do something like that. Nott thinks he knows everything because he fucking eats books every five seconds but he doesn't. He doesn't know-he doesn't know-" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "You know what else I hate? Even more?"

"Let me guess," Draco tapped his finger against his chin. "Theo himself?"

He expected her to reply back with a loud bark of laughter and add in her own commentary on how annoying he was, to cut down the name with her usual spitfire. To his surprise, she clutched onto the bed sheet harder, curling her body into a ball.

"W-when…you have this person in your life. This person who fucking infuriates you, annoys you. And yet, for some crazy reason, they fit into your life like a puzzle. And you fit in theirs. It becomes a game seeing how far you can push them before they snap. Gaining the upper hand. Getting the last word. You love the game because it's better than anything else and you know, even though they don't admit it, they like it just as much as you do. Then suddenly things change. You don't know if it's you, if it's them, or if it's puberty just being a nasty bitch you wanna punch in the face, but…feelings hit you. You can't explain them. You can't run from them. You can't fight them. All you know is that those stupid, annoying feelings scare the living shit outta you."

The words slammed into him like punch from a stoned-fist, cutting through the warm blanket the bourbon made for him.

"You hate change. Change means complicated. Change means messy. And it's like you're being pulled in so many directions. One part of you hates feeling this way, another wishes you can just cut them outta you, another wants more than anything to pretend nothing happened and everything's the same, and another…another wants more. More of their attention. More of them altogether. And that scares you even more. What's worse is that-that you have no idea what the hell you're feeling and even less of a clue of how they feel, and-and-and it hurts like hell."

His safety blanket was torn into ribbons and he felt cold. So cold and light like a snowfall drifting wildly in the air. He shivered and took Pansy's glass that was still half-full, barely grimacing at the bitter taste as he gulped it down in a single swig.

"You know what I wish?" Pansy whispered, but it sounded more like she was talking to herself than to him.

Draco shook his head. Not that it mattered; Pansy was lost in her own world.

"I wish…that-that Theo looked at me the way...the way you look at Harry."

Way? What way? There was no way. He looked at Harry the same way he looked at everyone else (those he liked), the same way anyone looked at their best friend.

"And the way he looks at you."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, sucking the air from his chest, from his head, making the room spin. He grabbed the bottle and drank as much as he could from the mouth, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of bourbon.

"Hey! Don't hucking hog." Pansy snatched the bottle from his hands.

A chuckle burst from his mouth, drips of liquor spilling from the corners of his lip. " _H_ _ucking?_ "

"Shut up. You know what I mean." She drank straight from the bottle's mouth, taking in a big gulp.

"Word of the day from Pansy."

"Shut up."

Snorting, Draco laid back on the bed. He could feel her glare boring holes into his skull.

She shook the bottle. "Almost gone."

His lips curved into a frown. "Damn."

"Should've brought more." She flopped onto her stomach, the skirt of her dress a mass of tulle. After a few seconds, minutes of silence, she asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you wish for?"

Thoughts flooded his head. Of Christmas afternoon, them playing in the snow, having so much before it was ruined by stupid Delacour and her stupid words. This evening when they were getting ready for the ball and he saw future glimpses of a man peering at him from a familiar face he knew as well as his own. Getting an up-close look at those strange glimpses when he fixed Harry's tie and his hands still stayed on his chest. When he finally separated him from his date, having Harry all to himself, and they they were lost in their own world, a barrier that kept out everything else that didn't matter.

"I wish…" Messy, pitch-black hair as dark as the night sky. Emerald-green eyes specked with gold. For them to be back in their own world. To burn the image of Harry laughing and dancing with the stupid she-weasel that played over in his head. His stomach lurched, the liquor churning uneasily. "To forget. About everything."

_Especially tonight_ , he thought.

"Me too." Pansy murmured.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

The next thing he knew, they were face to face, chest to chest, Pansy's cherry-glossed lips crushed against his.

It was-it was-it was sticky. Sticky and wet and odd but Draco ignored that, pressing himself more against her, kissing her harder. That didn't matter-it shouldn't matter. Pansy was pretty, Pansy was willing, Pansy wanted this as much as he did. He tried to focus on the sweet scent of her perfume, the cherry flavor coated on her lips, how smooth her hair felt through his fingers, how nice her curves were.

Yet, it was as if he had a rash, a severe rash that touched every part of him, irritating every nerve.  _Wrong_ , his body cried.  _Wrong._

He kissed, he touched, his way of defiance against his own body and mind, trying to silence them. He wanted to forget. He was  _desperate_  to forget.

Pansy was just as desperate, just as determined. She threw her leg over him and climbed on top, straddling his waist. Draco's hands landed on her waist, going here and there, her breasts, her waist again, her back. Pansy's hands were doing their own exploring, falling onto his shirt, pulling apart the rest of his buttons. Their lips were pressed so hard together; Draco could feel his teeth bending.

The pain was good, though, a dull throb that took his mind off things. Made it easier for him to ignore the itch pricking his skin as Pansy pushed down his shirt, her hands running all over his bare skin. Urgency leaked into her lips as she grinded her hips against his, the movement failing to send electric sparks down his spine like it did before.

_With a different person_ , a voice whispered.

_Shut up!_ He unclasped the knot holding Pansy's dress together, shoving the material down to her waist, his hand running over bare skin that felt nice, scented with the same fragrance as her perfume. It seemed the right move to play since Pansy moved her body closer to his, a chorus of gaps and mewls chiming from her mouth.

"I wanna forget." she pleaded.

_Me too_ , Draco thought. He grabbed hold of her waist and rolled them over, switching their positions which led to him on top and her underneath.

She looked up at him with glassy, desire-filled eyes, her naked chest rising and falling, nipples dark and hard.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong_ , the voice chanted, making the word into a song.

_Shut up!_  Draco fueled his annoyance into another kiss, trying to drown out the maddening itch, the taunting, the distortion by sinking into the scent of cherry dripping off her lips, her soft curves and skin, her black hair he couldn't stop playing with.

He pulled back when the need for air became too much, nearly having all the oxygen knocked out of his body.

Bright yet deep emerald green gazed up at him.

" _Fuck!_ " he yelped, tumbling off the bed, crashing onto the floor, taking most of the blanket down with him. His poor back suffered the most from the fall, lashes of pain biting into his skin from top to bottom.

"Draco!"

He swallowed down a lump that was the size of a snitch before he looked up. Pansy's normal brown eyes stared back at him, not a hint of green in sight.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I…I'm sorry. I can't do this." Ignoring the pain flaring in his back, he got himself up on shaky legs and looked around for his clothes.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" And damn it if a hint of hurt didn't creep into her voice, digging a knife into his gut.

"The problem isn't you," he replied, slipping back on his shirt, trying to get the stupid buttons to go through the holes. "Its-it's…"

_You have the wrong eye-color_ , the same taunting voice sang.  _And the wrong parts._

_Shut! Up!_  He scowled, giving up on fixing his shirt since the stupid holes wouldn't accept the top buttons. He put back on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He avoided looking into the mirror, knowing from the way it felt, his hair was a complete horror show.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, all he could give before he left.

The lights out in the hallway were set low, but blinded him as if they were ten thousand-watts beams. It didn't help that his head was spinning like a toy top. He shielded his face with one hand to spare it from the bright lights, using the other to rub his head already catching hold of a migraine, and stumbled his way over to his room. A task that was turning into a mission with his eyes blurring and showing him double, causing him to knock into things like tables and walls that got in his way, his goddamn head hurting and spinning, and the nausea churning in his stomach that burnt with every step he took.

_Never again_ , he swore. Never again would he indulge in liquor. Never would it taste his lips. Never-

"Draco."

Of course, someone would decide that they need him at a moment like this. And of course, his traitorous body would stop in place, turning over to that person.

Theo stepped into the common room. Draco must have looked worst than he thought given the way Theo's mouth fell open. "Did you-did you-" Theo glanced down the hall. "Did you just come out of Pansy's room?"

Irritation washed over him like a wave. Dear Merlin, did these two ever give it a rest? "Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you."

Theo recoiled as if he were punched in the gut, his jaw dropping, eyes bugging out. Draco took that as permission to move on, then broke off into a sprint as he felt nausea banging wildly against his stomach. He barely made it back to his room, into the bathroom before his stomach sent up everything he drank and ate tonight. Again and again and again.

Once his stomach was empty, he peeled his face off the cool porcelain floor, giving the toilet one last flush, and practically crawled out of the bathroom. His eyes fell on the couch that was calling him like a siren's song. He slowly walked over, kicking off his shoes, dropping his jacket onto the floor, and collapsed onto the soft cushions.

He saw the blue tin box of cookies Harry gave him this morning, his Christmas present, resting on the table with some cookies still left inside. Figuring they were the perfect solution to soothe his stomach, he picked up one but when he took a bite, his face twisted into a grimace. Apparently bourbon and cookies weren't a good combination.

He spat out the cookie, dropped the rest of it back into the box, and laid down on his stomach, staring off into space.

What a crummy, crappy night this turned out to be. He came back from the promising, wonderful Yule Ball and all he wanted to do was bash his head in to make the pain stop. Part of that could because he had more than he could chew-or drink. But it was mostly due to the fact this had been one miserable night. Not just the night, but most of the day, starting in the afternoon with his little chat with little Miss Feathers, then later on watching Harry prance around with little Demented, and then seeing him look so happy with little Miss-

Draco's train of thought ran off is course as the front door pushed open. He lifted his head up. His vision was still shite, showing him double, the room still spinning even though the speed thankfully decreased, but he was able to make out the messy dark hair and bright greens peering from the crooked glasses.

Harry's cheeks were flushed, as if he had a few cups of bourbon himself or had too fun with the dear little Lovegood or the stupid she-weasel. He stopped short at the sight of him. Draco could only imagine what he was seeing. His hair that was practically a tangled nest, his fine shirt crinkled. "What the hell happen to you?"

A snort ripped through Draco's throat. "Oh, how kind of you to notice. The great Potter humbl-humblin-humbling me with his great…" His hand that was dangling off the couch flopped around like he was trying to cast a spell. "magical presence."

Those emerald-greens rolled. "How smashed are you?"

"'m not-" A sound that was a cross between a burp and a hiccup popped out from his mouth. "'m not smashed. 'm-" Another burp-hiccup sound popped out. "'m p'ssed."

"Yea, I can tell. The liquor-ranked breath gave me a clue. And the stench on your clothes. Unless that's the smell of a new cologne you're trying to pull off."

Draco stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.

"Charming," Harry took off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. He rolled up his sleeves, walking over to him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"Draco."

What was he now, Father? He scowled up at him, leaning closer. "No."

"Whoa," Harry backed away, waving his hand in front of his face. "Liquor-vomit cologne, wonderful. Should I be worried about the bathroom?"

"Piss off, Pottery."

"Pottery?" Harry parroted.

He stuck his tongue out at him again.

"Okay, alright. First things first." Harry took out his wand and grabbed hold of Draco's chin, titling his head up, causing a sharp swerve of nausea to hit him. Harry's wand tapped against his bottom lip as he murmured a low spell, sending thick, strong fumes of mint that flooded Draco's mouth, nearly searing off his gums with their cool touch.

Draco jerked away from Harry's hand, nearly gagging on his breath. "Git."

"Prat," he replied back. "Trust me, you'll be thanking me in the morning for not leaving you with foul breath."

Draco made a face at him.

"Now, come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No." Draco moaned, dropping his face back on cushion.

"Yes." Harry insisted, sticking out his hand.

"No." He swatted away the hand. Well, his plan was to swat. His body instead tugged at it, pulling Harry on top of him.

"Draco, come on." Harry snatched back his hand and sat up. Draco leaped on him before he got the chance to leave, pressing most of his body weight on top of him. "Draco!"

"Stay." He closed his eyes. "At least for awhile."

Beneath his cheek, Harry's chest rose, then fell. "Fine, at least for awhile. At least your breath won't be able to kill me now."

_Victory_ , he thought with glee, one that grew sweeter as he felt Harry's hand combing through his hair. "Read me something."

Harry let out a breath of laughter. "I would need to get a book from the bookshelf. Which means I would need to get up. And I have a feeling you won't like that."

No, he wouldn't like that all. Not one bit. Still, he tapped his arm for mocking him. "You have a big head, Potter. You must have some book parts floating in there. Plenty of space for it."

"Prat."

He tapped his arm harder.

"Alright, alright." Harry squirmed more in the couch, slinging his arm around Draco's waist, inserting his hand back into Draco's hair. "Let me see…okay…I think I have one."

Draco snuggled more against Harry's chest.

"It was from a book Mum loved called  _Wuthering Heights_. She highlighted this part bright pink in her copy."

Draco tapped Harry's arm, a silent command to read already.

"… _he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same._ "

The words flowed easily from his mouth like a river stream. "What's the name of that book again?"

" _Wuthering Heights_."

"Say it again, those words."

"… _he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same._ "

" _His and mine_." Draco softly repeated. His and mine. Yours and mine. Mine and yours. They were basically the same song as far as he was concerned.

"Figured you'd like that part," Harry's hand swept through his hair, brushing loose strands away from his face. "The whole speech for that quote is actually sad, but my mom loved that part. I do too. It kinda reminds me of you. Of us."

Draco peeled his eyes open and looked up, finding Harry's eyes fixed on him. They were like strings pulling him up like a puppet, drawing him closer to Harry, calling on his hands to glide across his chest, up to his shoulders, onto his face,

His face that was so familiar to Draco like his own name, so familiar and yet was becoming different. Different and still beautiful. So utterly, painfully beautiful that aches danced across his chest like knives.

Why did it take so long for him to notice that?

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off by running his thumb over his lips, free from sticky gloss and chapped and softer than anything he ever touched.

"Draco."

He looked into those beautiful emeralds green, a rich shade he knew couldn't be copy, couldn't be matched, and leaned in. His lips fell onto Harry's like a snowflake finally landing onto the ground. Only instead of the snowflake melting away, it sparked into a flame. A flame that sparked in the center of his chest, glowing so brightly, before it exploded into a firestorm.

Burning.

Scorching.

Uncontrollable.

Wildfire.

He didn't have to worry about trying to make himself comfortable or force himself to relax. He didn't feel awkward or felt an itch pricking his body. One kiss, lips meeting, tongues tasting, and he was gone. Any connection to his brain was lost to him, severed and brunt to ashes. Leaving him with nothing but the need to explore. Explore the sweetness of Harry's lips, the sparks dripping off his tongue, the embers burning in his mouth.

_More_ , his body cried _. More._

"Draco." Harry whispered, his name coming out like a sacred prayer. Their hands were just as fervent as their mouths, growing more urgent, more desperate.

It was like they were back in their own little world again, where nothing else existed to them, an entire world just for Draco and Harry, with everything else burning in the wake of the fire. A world where they were a mess of hands and mouths and tongues, the fire between them brewing them growing hotter with every touch, every kiss.

_Mine_ , his body sang while his mind was swimming.  _Mine!_

Draco's mouth branched out to different spots-Harry's cheeks, his jaw, his collarbone, his neck. Harry's neck was becoming his favorite part to play with, salty and sweet at once, a spot that made gasps and whimpers tumble from his mouth.

Lost in the sensation, Draco rolled his hips, unleashing a new lash of fire that threatened to devour them both from the inside out, causing them to cry out.

"Draco." Harry gasped; head tilted back, nails dug into Draco's back. He rolled his hips again, longer, harder, and his name left Harry's lips like a prayer. "Draco!"

_Much better_ , the voice purred, sounding just as drunk as him, just as hungry.

"Mine." He claimed Harry's lips in a hard, bruising kiss bound to make their lips swollen in the morning.

He felt liberated. He felt weightless. Like gravity had no power over him. And he wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the sky, touch the stars. He wanted to take off into the great unknown and for Harry to be right by his side.

His hands dropped from the shirt they were struggling to pry open to Harry's trousers, unclasping the buckle, trying to get the goddamn stupid belt off.

Then the kiss started to change. Harry started to change. His lips were retreating inside of participating, his head jerking as if he were trying to shake Draco loose.

"N-no…Draco-no-"

Only Draco wasn't ready to retreat. He wanted to fly. He wanted to touch the stars. He wanted Harry right there with him.  _Needed_  him there.

He kissed him again, trying to weaken his resistance by seeking out that glorious tongue, inviting it to come out and play as he moved his hips over and over again. For a moment, he could feel the resistance crumbling, Harry's head easing back, forfeiting control. Then as quickly it was disappeared, it came back, snapping into place.

"Draco, no!" Harry pressed his hands against Draco's hands and pushed him back hard, sending him over to the other side of the chair.

Just as it was when they danced, the beautiful world they created shattered like glass. Draco tried to mend the pieces, to take them back to the fire and stars. But when he cupped Harry's cheek and tried to catch those lips, Harry jerked back harshly.

The gesture hurt just as much as the severe "No!" that ripped through Harry's teeth, cutting into his chest like a dagger.

"You-" Draco rasped, starting over when his throat became too tight. "Don't you want this?"

Harry covered his face with his hands, taking time to think it over. After what felt like a numbingly-long century, his hands lowered to his lap. He turned over to Draco and his eyes were the darkest Draco had ever seen them, filled with too many thoughts it was almost hard to look into them. Yet Draco found that he couldn't tear himself away from their gaze.

"What I want-it…it doesn't…" Harry took in a breath that came all the way down from his toes. "It doesn't matter."

"Why?" A thought meant to be floating inside his head blurred out loud.

"The fact you're insanely drunk being one."

"Are not!" Draco argued.

"And the fact you're…you're…"

That he was what? What was he?

Whatever it was, Harry wasn't in the mood to share. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand over his face and got up, offering Draco his hand with a soft smile.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to bed."

"But-" He wanted to be weightless. He wanted to fly. He wanted them to go to the stars. "The couch is comfy."

"But the bed is softer." Harry insisted, taking his hand.

Soon enough Draco was out of his suit and changed into pajamas, lying in bed on his side, facing the window with his back pressed against Harry's chest, Harry's arm thrown over his waist, their hands linked, legs entangled together with sheets of duvets covering them. Harry eased away from him to light up the fireplace before making his way back to Draco.

It was still snowing outside, only falling more gently. The two watched the snow fall in silence. He could feel Harry's breath growing softer and softer. His thumb brushed against Harry's hand, feeling a light squeeze in return.

"Still mine?" Draco asked in a low whisper.

For a second he was sure Harry fell asleep until he felt the bed creaking from Harry moving closer to him. He shivered from the warm breath that brushed against his chest as Harry placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"Of course I'm yours, Draco. I'll always be yours just like you'll always be mine."

The words wrapped around him like a nice, cozy blanket. Draco melted into its embrace with a sigh and smile, slowly closing his eyes.

"You're my best friend."

Draco's eyes snapped open.

Harry placed another kiss on the nape of his neck, shifted his body until he was comfortable, and drifted off to sleep.

Draco watched the snow continue to fall, trying to let air in and out of his body with a throat that was growing too tight, too dry to allow airflow.

Best friend.

Despite the fire roasting in the mantel, the layers of blankets thrown over him, Harry's body chest pressed against him, Draco felt cold. As if he were standing outside in the snow in only his pajamas, ice spreading through his system like a virus, coating every vein and nerve until his insides were completely frozen.

Best friend.

The words torn away any lingering dizziness the bourbon made for him, turning almost cold-somber.

Best friend.

A shield that protected him from the hits of fear and insecurity that tried to get through. A title he took pride in, loving the exclusivity it brought. His title that separated him from the others because they were just friends that could easily be disposable while he was the best friend, one of the kind. Irreplaceable and valuable, set on the highest bar in the pyramid.

And yet…for the first time in nine years, the words didn't comfort him as they did before.


	35. Harsh Rays of Morning Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you were stunned by the last chapter. As predicted, tons of feelings came about. 
> 
> So coming later with this chapter. Today has been hectic. Also since we're winding down, there are hundreds of things I need to do and some of which ties to this story, the story will be updated one chapter at a time. But I'm sure you guys will love them

Draco shifted his body, burying his face further into the pillow. He then rolled onto his left side, opening his eyes only a small bit.

Pain slammed into his temple, aching like hundreds of burning-hot hammers swinging at almost every spot.

Hurt…hurt… _hurt!_

A sound came out from his mouth that was too low, too tortured to pass as a groan, like he was a severely-battered, mangled animal barely hanging onto life. Draco tried to move over to the other side of the bed to ward off the pain, but in a blink of an eye the pain spread, a brutal cycle that went around and around, crushing his skull into pieces, picking apart his brain.

Goddamn hangover. Goddamn bourbon for causing the hangover. Goddamn Parkinson for suggesting it-

"Glad to see you're finally awake, Sleeping Beauty."

A scowl slashing across his face, Draco cracked his eye open, despite the unbearable throbbing, to glare at the git smirking at him, lounging at the window seat.

Goddamn stupid Potter for being a git!

"Remind me," Draco's words came out as a croak, his throat dry as a cactus. "to  _kill you_  when my head stops pounding." And when the goddamn room finally ceased spinning.

Harry's smirk broadened. If it wasn't for the fact his body was so weak, Draco would have threw a pillow at his head to knock off that smirk.

"Make yourself useful, Potter and get me a hangover potion."

"Even though you asked so sweetly," A teasing glint sparked in those emerald greens. Draco made a vow to get the git back with a knock on the head by the pillow and several punches to his arm. "I'm afraid my knowledge of potions only goes so far. Sadly, the cure for a hangover isn't part of it."

Draco groaned, and then whimpered as he realized he was on the same boat. He should have taken up Blaise's offer to learn the potion when he had the chance. He suppose he could always go to Severus, but the man made it clear he'd maimed any snake who came crawling to him in the morning for an aid to their liquor-causing suffering.

Harry hopped off the window seat and walked over to him, offering Draco his hand. "Come on."

"To where?"

"I may not know how to make a hangover potion but I do know the remedies on how to cure it. I've helped Remus more than once get Sirius back on his feet after a wild night. Remus says there are two good cures to hangovers: water and food, particularly of the greasy kind."

Draco's stomach churned at the thought of food. "I think I'll pass."

"Trust me, you'll feel better. But first," Harry sniffed the air a few times and stepped back, waving his hand in front of his face. "You need a shower. Bad. You smell like a bar-and some leftover vomit."

Growling, Draco stuck his tongue out at him.

It was a mission to get out of the bed with his stomach, every limb in his body actually, protesting against the movement, punishing him with flares of pain that lashed like a whip. The mission then took a dangerous curve when he was forced to not only stand but make the long journey from the bed to the bathroom on two useless legs. If it wasn't for Harry the human crutch, he would have fallen flat on his face.

"Dear Merlin." Draco muttered, stunned, studying his reflection in the mirror.

Dear sweet Merlin,  _his hair._  His beautifully-neat, always-straight and perfect hair looked as if it gone against a band of wild, vicious birds trying to make it their new home. Stingy, matted, out of control. It actually made Harry's tangled mop look neat. And that wasn't the worst of it. His eyes were still glassy and rimmed red, as if he didn't get enough sleep. Or cried.

Which was completely ridiculous since he knew for a fact he didn't cry. At least…he didn't think so. Draco ranked through his mind on what happened last night at the ball. He remembered-he remembered…entering the ballroom and feeling like he was walking through a winter wonderland. He remembered getting a chance to dance with Harry and how incredible it was, wrapped in each other's arms, being lost in their own world. He remembered feeling a mix of anger and hurt churning stomach when Harry went back to Lovegood. He remembered Pansy appearing by his side with a bottle of hard amber.

After that…after that…he remembered feeling warm, too warm like he had over a dozen thick blankets wrapped around his body. Then cold as he left Pansy's room. Warm again as Harry tucked him in. Then cold once more.

Obviously there were gaps, big ones in between those moments. He could feel it. Yet for the life of him he couldn't remember. It was like there were black holes planted in his mind. The more he tried to grasp onto something, a memory, a fragment, the bigger the holes got.

Draco took out his frustration on his teeth, scrubbing every spot and morsel till they were gleaming. He peeled off his clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. He pulled back the shower curtain, stepped inside, and grinded his teeth as he turned the water to cold. He recalled reading from a book somewhere that cold water helped with hangovers; made the mind more awake.

Too bad reading didn't prepare him for the shock of icy water that rained down on him, stinging like a set of whips that struck on and on, again and again. Draco yelped loudly from the lash. Teeth chattering, he forced himself to move closer to the water until he was standing directly under the showerhead, letting the water drench him. Slowly, through the haze of freezing cold, his mind started to wake up, growing more alert. His limbs started to feel attached to his body instead of detached.

He drenched his washcloth with his favorite body wash and used it to scrub every inch of his body, welcoming the aches from his hard handiwork that were a better substitute than the numbing cold. He used the same elbow-grease handiwork for his hair, pouring a handful of shampoo into his palm, scrubbing hard.

Minutes later, he was done, skin tender, body numb, almost feeling like a human being again.

"Harry?" he asked as he rummaged through his drawers to find something to wear. Nothing too casual but not sloppy either, cozy enough and wouldn't require much effort to put on.

"Yea?"

Draco pulled out a black sweatshirt and a pair of Harry's jeans he knew would fit him. "Did any-anything happen last night? Before you put me to bed?"

Harry pulled away from his journal he was scribbling in to look up at him. "Besides the fact you were a drunken mess that could barely speak English?"

_Stinking git,_  Draco scowled. "Yes, you idiot, besides that."

"Well you called me, Pottery for one. Then put up a bit of a fight when I tried to put you to bed. You ended up pulling me down and getting on top of me when I tried to move. After that, you demanded that I read to you. Who knew Draco Malfoy could be such a needy drunk?"

Draco's cheeks flamed in mortification. On second thought, he took it back-he didn't want the black holes fixed. He didn't want his memories. He didn't want to remember how bad of a drunk, how much of an idiot he acted last night. "And after that?"

He was surprised by the light shade of red streaking across Harry's cheeks as he looked at Draco and then quickly looked away. "Something happened. Before I put you to bed, I mean."

Draco took a step forward, his brow arching questioningly. "What?"

"We…we, um, we did the serpent salute." Harry finally answered. "Thoroughly."

Oh…oh- _oh!_  Draco's mouth dropped open but no sound came out. Harry made a point of not looking at him.

He looked around the room, cheeks blazing, as if he were trying to find an answer. There was nothing left to do but to get dressed, so he did just that, taking his sweet time of drying himself off, slipping on his sweatshirt and pulling up the trousers.

"Draco." Heart pounding, he looked over his shoulder. Harry leaned forward in his seat, fingers wringed while his hands sat on his lap, finally looking up. "About last night-"

" _Best friend._ " The words unfolded in his mind like paper, planting a seed in his chest that quickly sprouted into a gnarled tree.

Draco swallowed down hard and turned to the mirror, studying his reflection. He picked up a comb and brush, determined to do some damage control for his hair.

"Draco."

"I'm hungry," he said. "We should go eat."

He turned back and immediately regretted it the moment he saw hurt filling Harry's eyes. Hurt he caused, hurt that made him feel like a knife was jabbed into his stomach.

"I-I-just-I'm hungry." He cringed from the words, wanting to knock off his own mouth.

Harry said nothing. He didn't even look at him as he got up and headed over to the door.

The knife twisted slowly, excruciatingly slowly in Draco's gut. "Harry."

"You're hungry, aren't you?" He still refused to look at him.

"No. I mean yes. I mean-" Draco grabbed his arm and held on tight. "I-I just…I do wanna eat." He cringed again as those words left his mouth. Another symptom to hangovers: voicing out verbal stupidity. "And then…then,"  _Spit it out_ , his mind screamed. He forced his feet to move a step closer despite the nerves wildly bouncing around in his body. "I-I would like for us to talk. Really talk."

Harry glanced down at his hand before turning his gaze back up. Even in the early morning (or maybe it was late day) the intent gaze never left his eyes. He nodded, a soft, almost-shy smile curling his mouth. "Okay."

"Okay."

He nodded. Draco sighed in sweet relief.

"Come on," Harry said, tugging at his hand. "Let's go get you some food."

There were few people out in the hall, even less outside the Slytherin wing. The Great Hall only contained a small number of students who were clear-headed enough to be out and hungry enough to crawl from the safe havens of their beds.

Blaise and Pansy were already at their table, Blaise chatting away, Pansy responding with eye-rolls and head-shakes. Theo was across from them, looking down at his bowl of oatmeal he stirred with his spoon, face somber and remote like he was working on a potion.

"Malfoy, Potter." Blaise smirked. "So the happy pair joins us at last."

Draco scowled at him as they took their seats, sitting between Theo and Harry. "If it wasn't for the fact my head was killing me, you'd be spitting out your broken teeth right now."

"You always say such the sweetest things. No wonder girls are falling at your feet."

Besides Draco, Theo scowled at his bowl, gripping tightly onto the spoon.

Ignoring Blaise, Draco loaded his plate with practically every dish presented on the table: toast, a few mini muffins, scrambled eggs.

"Someone's definitely a hungry boy." Pansy commented, eyes focused on her nails she was filing away. An odd smile splashed across her lips, disappearing as soon as it appeared.

A strange sort of nausea came over Draco watching that smile, one that felt like nausea and also shame though he couldn't explain why the latter.

Theo then reached over the table and scooped up a spoonful of bacon, dumping it on Draco's plate, nearly hitting him with splotches of grease dripping from the meat.

Draco scowled at that but still got out, "Thanks Nott, though you may want to work on your aim."  _And your table manners_ , he added silently.

Theo only shrugged as he settled back into his seat. "Think nothing of it, Malfoy. You look like you can use the caloric energy."

Draco spared a glance at Harry, who shrugged. He nodded thanks to Theo and had himself a bite.

"I suspect you'll need to recharge after your all-night, long-haul, undoubtedly-thorough fucking session with Pansy!"

All around them, the Great Hall was moving in its usual morning motion with students talking and laughing over bites of toast and eggs, teachers discussing their plans for classes and the holidays. At the Slytherin table, in a small section smacked in the middle, silence hung over the the friends, sound severed by those harsh words that struck like lightning.

Draco nearly choked on his eggs, inhaling too quick, swallowing too much. Across from him, Pansy's face had gone white as a sheet. Next to her, Blaise's eyes darted back and forth between her and Draco as if he was waiting for a deadly competition to start. To his left, Draco could feel his skin practically melting off from the heating glare of Theo's eyes. To his right…Draco couldn't even bring himself to look. He knew if he turned, he'd see something bad. Something much, much worse than all the other reactions combined.

_Remind calm_ , he'd told himself. Maintain composure. It was just a tricky situation he fallen into, one he could easily slip past with a few well-choice words. "I think your reading dietary is starting to fry your brain cells if you seriously think-"

Theo cut him off with a glare that could carve a man up like a turkey. "I don't think, Malfoy, I know. Your ghastly half-dressed, askew-haired appearance said it all."

Draco felt his Malfoy mask crack. Why, oh why in the name of Merlin didn't he fix himself up more properly before he left Pansy's room?

Theo apparently wasn't done. "There is also the matter of the fact I caught you crawling out of Parkinson's room and said-and I quote-right to my face, ' _Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you._ '"

Three pairs of eyes whirled over to him. One lit with shock and anger, another bright in curiosity, and the other…Draco didn't even to look at them.

His cheeks, his entire face burnt so severely from the scrutiny and the silence that he was surprised he didn't combust right at the spot. "I-"

Merlin must have decided to have mercy on him because, despite the anger roaring in her eyes Draco knew was reserved for him, Pansy turned that fiery glare over to Theo. "And who the hell gave you the authority to blurt information that doesn't concern you? Or act all high and mighty and pass judgment on a friend and someone you made clear you wanted nothing to do with it?"

Theo returned her harsh glare with a dark one of his own. "A person who actually felt guilty about what he said last night and planned on apologizing until he sees your  _date_ ," He jerked his thumb towards Draco. "Stumble out of your room looking like he had a hands-on, X-rated duel match with y-"

Theo's head nearly flew off his neck, whipping to the opposite direction as Pansy's hand collided with his cheek.

Hundreds of eyes flew over to their island, students, teachers, but Draco didn't meet them, glued to his seat.

Only one word could describe the look seething in Pansy's eyes as they glared at Theo: terrifying. Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying. So much so that Blaise moved down a few inches.

" _You arrogant, brainless, pompous arse!_ " Pansy but all shrieked. "Who the hell are you to sit there and pout and act as if you have the right to judge? As if I owe you something. I don't own you a damn thing! Except a good kick to your head."

"Were you or were you not with Draco? Did I or did I not see him crawl out of your room looking as if he had himself a grand time doing the horizontal mambo with you?"

Pansy stood from her seat and Draco was so sure he'd see her half-eaten breakfast spill over Theo's head. Or even on himself. She surprised them all by giving Theo a smile that was a mix of nauseating sweetness and sharp, jagged coldness. "What I do and who I do is  _none_  of your damn business!"

She marched out the room, causing students to flee from her path. Draco saw most of them wincing from the look in her eyes.

Theo slowly turned his attention back to Draco, his eyes nearly black and hard as onyx stones.

"Theo-"

"I highly,  _highly_  suggest unless you wish to learn firsthand the brutal severities of torture relished by the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, you stay out of my way and out of my sight for the rest of your miserable life!"

"Theo-"

He stood up from the table so abruptly with enough speed and force that the plates and cups rattled, nearly spilling over. He was already through the door before his name could be called a second time.

Whispers buzzed like noisy crickets, starting soft and growing loud. Glances flew from and between the empty spots in their island, the door where the two patrons ran off to, and to Draco.

The attention was barely noticed by the three who remained. Blaise wisely looked away, covering his mouth with his fist. Draco kept his eyes focused on the plate of wet bacon drenched in an ocean of grease. The silent one by his side reminded silent, which wasn't sure whether or not it was a good thing.

"You and Pansy?"

Apparently the silent one wished to shed his name.

Heart pounding, stomach churning, Draco stole a glance at Harry and immediately wished he kept his eyes at his plate. Harry's eyes weren't roaring in anger like Pansy's, jagged and cold like Theo's, but there was something in there, the way they carried that made Draco feel uneasy.

"You and Pansy?" Harry repeated, tone and calm as it was when he asked the question before.

"I-not the way Nott is implying."

"But clear enough for him to make that jump given how trashed you looked," Steel started to coat over his voice. "At least now I know why your buttons were messed up."

There was no reason for Draco to feel as if he had been slapped. No reason for the words to be taken as an insult. And yet, it was so greatly, unbelievably easy to jump from point A straight to point D. To suspect that the words contained a sly, heavy depth meant to sting. To latch onto anger and use it as a shield against shame and humiliation threatening to swallow him whole.

"Spare me the migraine, Potter. Your voice is like a drill grinding into my skull."

"Must have been one kiss if you're blushing so hard and avoiding the question."

Draco scoffed and examined his nails, needing something to do. "Just the same as every other kiss I received: completely, utterly irrelevant."

No sooner did the words come out did he wanted to hex his mouth shut for the rest of eternity. No sooner were the words released did hurt, undeniable, heartbreaking hurt glowed in Harry's emerald-greens that dug into Draco, slicing through his chest all down to his stomach.

"Harry, wait!" He latched onto his best friend's arm. "That's not what I meant."

Harry knocked away his arm, as if the touch disgusted him. "That's exactly what you meant, Malfoy. Message received. Loud and clear."

"But-"

Harry was already gone before he finished the vowels of the word.

Draco swallowed-or at least attempted to but the lump in his throat was too big, his throat too dry and tight.

"And then there was two."

And he was a good five seconds away from finishing Zabini off with a stab to the neck. Slowly, he turned his head away from the door and over to the other remaining patron of their island, his hands balling into such tight fists, he could feel his skin breaking.

Oddly enough, Blaise didn't burst into laughter like Draco thought he would. He didn't fall off his seat, cackling. He didn't launch into demands and questions over the last-night chaotic. He didn't even wear a smirk on his lips. There was something else, though, not quite laughter but definitely amusement and curiosity dancing in those wicked eyes of his.

"You know, I really picked the most perfect day to come down for breakfast. Got decent food and a grand show." Blaise concluded, taking a sip of his juice. "And you may want to move your knife another direction unless you want Moody to change you back into a bouncing ferret."

Draco hadn't realized how close he was to coming through with his promise to stab until he saw how high the knife was, how close it was to Blaise's throat. He also didn't realize a different sort of onlooker was paying close attention to them until he saw the one-eyed, handicapped troll shifting closer to their table, his "good" eye narrowing.

He lowered his knife and laid it beside his plate, giving the professor what he hoped looked like a charming smile.

Given the way the man's eye slanted, his gaze hard and distrusting, he wasn't the least bit fooled. Fortunately for Draco since there was no danger, Moody had no choice but to carry on, though Draco noticed that the man moved with reluctance.

"You're welcome." Blaise drawled as soon as Moody was out of hearing range.

Draco responded with a terrifying growl that made nearby Slytherins shift further away. Blaise replied with a cool eyebrow lift, completely unfazed.

"During her third divorce, my mother pulled me aside and told me something I never forgot. She said 'Pity and also savor the man who doesn't realize he's hanging himself until the stool's knocked over.' I agree. There's an odd but sweet satisfaction in watching a fool being hanged by his own tongue."

The sensation of his skin stretched out too thin alerted Draco that he was clenching his fists again. He forced himself to unclench them, aware that eyes were still on them even though the fools thought they were being discrete, telling himself over and over that although it would be all too sweet to bash Blaise's face in he didn't need to give Moody a reason to go after him. No matter how much every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do it.

"Cut to the chase, Zabini," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Are you implying I'm the fool in this scenario?"

"Not at all. A fool's downfall usually consists of one thing. Yours, on the other hand, consists of several." Blaise listed them off with his fingers. "Pride, which as history has taught countless times, is the ultimate downfall to any man. Alcohol, which is severely underestimated, removing the mask guarding the unconscious mind. And another person, an unfortunate victim, you brought down with you to the post. That's not the making of a fool, Draco. Those are the makings of an idiot."

The reasons he had for not punching Zabini's face in started to crumble, dissolving with each word that came out from his mouth. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"An idiot who's just as stubborn as he is blind." Blaise snapped back, all traces of amusement wiped clean from his face.

Even with anger fuming in him, Draco was shocked by the expression, unable to recall a time he ever saw Blaise look so serious.

"Shall I spell it out for you?" He didn't even bother waiting for a reply, already launching into an explanation. "Person A and Person C were miserable because the people they wanted to be with were with other people. So person C gets bottle, person A follows along, and the two attempt to rearrange the alphabet to make a point. Note that I say attempt generously. Person A brags to person D that they fucked person C seven ways to Sunday, proving that short temper and alcohol do not at all go together. Later on, when person A was somber enough, something happened between him and person B. Judging by the tight fists, red cheeks, and avoided eye contact; I pretty much hit the nail with that one. And now thanks to you, person A, the alphabet is one big mess."

Draco's teeth were grinded so hard together, he could feel them cracking. For his own sake and sanity, he forced himself to remain still, to hold it together otherwise the fools would have a front row seat to a bloody execution.

Blaise either was oblivious to the fact he was in the dangers of becoming a dead man or simply didn't care. The tight, thin-lipped smile curling his mouth pointed at the latter. "Yes, Malfoy, as it turns out, I'm not only pretty. I can think too."

"Barely!"

Blaise's smile grew tighter. "Here's what I think. You need to sober yourself up, get the full picture of what happened last night, and clean up your mess."

He rose from his seat, shot Draco a wink, and strolled out of the Great Hall.

_And then there was one._

* * *

By noon pretty much everyone-and to Draco's great embarrassment he did mean everyone-knew about what happened between him, Pansy, and Theo after the ball. That was one of the many, many flaws about the school: secrets were only an illusion. There was no such thing in the school with its thousand-and-one ears listening closely, loose-lipped students who blurted out information at the drop of a hat, mindless professor who didn't understand the meaning of confidentiality busy-body ghosts craving gossip like it was their lifeline. Once a secret was out, the whole school knew about it in an hour. Then added their own twists to the story an hour after that.

Draco caught snippets of those twists. Rumors that Draco used Pansy to get back at Theo for getting a higher score on a Charms exam. Rumors that Pansy realized she could do better and tried to get pregnant with Draco's baby so she could have a share of the Malfoy fortune. Rumors that the two were already married and decide to consummate the marriage. There was a new one floating around that the three were actually a threesome and Theo was furious that they started without him.

The last one left a horrible taste in Draco's mouth. The idea of getting close to Theo like that, the idea and the realization that he actually was close to Pansy nearly made him empty the contents of his stomach again.

His heart went out to Harry who had to deal with this sort of scrutiny from not only the school but from most of the wizarding world. His heart went gave a hard kick as the look of absolute hurt and rage in his eyes ran through Draco's mind.

He hadn't seen Harry since breakfast. Then again, it wasn't as if he was looking for him. He wanted to, he really did, but he had no clue what to say. How to clean up the mess his big mouth once again threw him into.

Draco decided to take Blaise's advice in getting the full picture of the story. The only was he would be able to do that was remembering, which meant he'd have to get the hangover potion. Problem was that came with a price, two prices actually.

In order to get the potion, he'd have to go to the one man who knew how to make a perfect one. He was hoping to slip in and out of Severus's office without a scratch. Unfortunately, it seemed hope and reality were in a nasty pickle today since the man was waiting for Draco right by his door, holding a small bottle that contained a dark gray liquid, wearing a scowl that was frightening to say the least.

"I should be surprised that of all dunderheads, you're the one coming to me," he drawled. "but I would only be lying to myself."

Draco snarled at him. "Can we please skip to the lecture and get to the punishment already? I've had enough to last me a lifetime."

"I beg to differ," Severus said. "However you are right about one thing. You  _will_  be punished."

Crabbe was under the illusion that just because Severus was his godfather, he'd go easy on him. Ha, such a naïve thought. Draco may be one of Severus's star students, and, yes, he may turn a blind eye whenever Draco's  _assistance_  with another student led to catastrophe, but Severus was a man who didn't tolerate disobedience from anyone. He made sure the fool regret their mistake, and dear Merlin did Draco regret his.

Severus made him scrub close to hundreds of cauldrons that used in the students' potions final, badly churned with smoke still clinging onto them, and caked with grim and dry, nasty-looking green mud that looked like expired relish left out in the hot for weeks. Draco's nose nearly fell off his face from the stench. The horrible thing was that wasn't the worst of it. It was what Severus gave him to clean the cauldrons.

" _A toothbrush?!_ " Draco exclaimed. The name itself was too generous to flimsy tool he held in his hand. It was too small, too thin to even clean a mouse, swallowed up in his hand, the teeth falling apart before his eyes.

"Be grateful that I'm not making you use your own." Severus said.

Seeing that he had no choice, Draco grinded his teeth and got to work. His poor arms were killing him. The gunk was stuck there like glue, requiring extra elbow-grease. It wasn't only a pain to get it out, it was also a pain to the touch. It stung his hands like acid, though Severus claimed that the potion wasn't hazardous. Despite the long hours and work, Draco was actually grateful for it. Cleaning up the cauldrons helped take his mind off things. Helped him ignore the fact he made things worse between Theo and Pansy, that he may have ruined his friendship with them, that he may have severely ruined things with Harry.

Severus handed him the potion three hours later, warming him he wouldn't be so forgiving the next time around. Draco would've gone by the lake to take it and think things over, not quite ready to go back to his room, but it was covered with ice and snow so he went to the Astronomy tower instead. Usually the spot was a taboo place to go for such a thing since it was usually taken over by groping, face-fused couples, but it was still early and the campus was mostly deserted.

Besides, he had a good feeling most of those couples were huddled with their friends in their dorms, their common rooms, gossiping over the Slytherin love triangle.

Draco glanced down at the small potion in his hand. It had no scent and looked plain, almost like melted steel. He tilted back his head and swallowed it quick, grimacing at the bitter taste.

For awhile nothing happened. His head was fuzzy as it was before, but then a pulse started to buzz around his head, slowly poking into his skull like a needle, unleashing flares of pain that spread through his head.

Draco barely had time to gasp before the memories flashed across his mind.

" _I wish…" Messy, pitch-black hair as dark as the night sky. Emerald-green eeys specked with gold. For them to back in their own world. To burn the image of Harry laughing and dancing with the she-weasel that played over in his head. His stomach lurched, the liquor churning uneasily. "To forget. About everything."_ Especially tonight _, he thought._

" _Me too." Pansy murmured._

_He looked at her. She looked at him._

_The next thing he knew, they were face to face, chest to chest, Pansy's glossed lips crushed against his._

Wrong, wrong, wrong _, his mind practically sang. The harder he tried to ease himself into the kiss, the louder the singing grew._

He tumbled off the bed because he was too dizzy, too overwhelmed by the drink and the sight of emerald-green.

" _I'm sorry," was all he could say, all he could give before he left._

Pansy. Dear Merlin, the hurt in her eyes as she sat up, her dress pooled around her waist, made walking out the door impossible without feeling as if a knife was twisting into his stomach.

" _Did you-did you-" Theo glanced down the hall. "Did you just come out of Pansy's room?"_

_Irritation washed over him like a wave. Dear Merlin, did these two ever give it a rest? "Don't worry, Nott. I wore her out for you."_

How was it possible he was drunk out of his mind and still somehow managed to spit out those words with perfect clarity?

" _Say it again, those words."_

"… _he's more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."_

He couldn't remember feeling so warm, as cozy as he did wrapped in Harry's arms.

_Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off by running his thumb over his lips, free from sticky gloss and chapped and softer than everything he ever touched._

" _Draco."_

_He looked into those beautiful emerald-greens, a rich shade he knew couldn't be copied, couldn't be matched, and leaned in. His lips fell on Harry's like a snowflake finally landing onto the ground. Only instead of the snowflake melting away, it sparked into a flame. A flame that sparked in the center of his chest, glowing so brightly, before it exploded into a firestorm._

Goosebumps nipped his skin as Draco recalled that kiss, one of many that followed afterwards. How they were lost in a world of lips, hands, and each other. And how quickly it burnt to ash.

" _Still mine?" Draco asked in a low whisper._

_For a second, he was sure Harry fell asleep until he felt the bed creaking from Harry moving closer to him. He shivered from the warm breath that brushed against his chest as Harry placed a light kiss on his cheek._

" _Of course I'm yours, Draco. I'll always be yours, just like you'll always be mine."_

_The words wrapped around him like a nice, cozy blanket. Draco melted into its embrace with a sigh and smile, slowly closing his eyes._

" _You're my best friend."_

Draco sank down to the floor and drew up his legs, banging his head against the wall.

Blaise was right. He and Pansy were miserable, drunk, and wanted to have fun. Wanted to forget. Pansy was just as willing to go far as he wanted and he threw it back at her face, pulling away, leaving her half-naked and alone. It was a dick move, a horrible one to do to a friend, and he worsened the situation when he flung those words at Theo's face. And Harry-oh dear Lord, Harry. No wonder he was crushed by what Draco said.

Just about as much Draco was when Harry pushed him away because things got too intense, and then when he whispered those words.

" _You're my best friend."_

His title for years Draco took great pride in, his crown that separated him from the other peasants, his security blanket that no longer fit. It was like Harry poured icy-cold water over his head.

"You are a hard man to find. And a popular one at that."

A groan stirred in Draco's mouth at the sound. Slowly, he counted backwards from five and looked over to his right.

Pansy looked down at him, arms folded across her chest, mouth curved into a smile that was sharp as a knife. "And apparently so am I. I think more boys have come up to me these past few hours than they have the whole four years combined."

Thanks to those rumors no doubt. Draco winced as he rose to his feet. "Pans-"

A crack whipped through the air, and he was nearly knocked down to the floor. It took him almost a minute to piece together that his cheek was stinging, courtesy of Pansy's slap.

Draco held in a hiss, holding his cheek, the skin still hot. "Okay, I deserve that."

Her hand smacked the other cheek, striking him twice as hard, dotting his vision with burning red stars.

"Okay, I deserve that too."

"You deserve to have your face clawed off." Pansy remarked. "But I don't want to ruin my manicure."

Cheeks throbbing, Draco took in a deep breath, which worsened the pain. "I'm sorry, Pans."

Her smile was a brittle, ugly thing. "For what? For rejecting me and making me feel like a slut? For bragging to Nott that we slept together and implying I'm a slut? For the school knowing about what happened and now being branded as the official harlot of Hogwarts?"

"All of it. Especially for-for what happened. In your room."

"I don't want to hear-"

"It had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with me, all me. What we did-or-or almost did," It was a struggle to get the words out. "It didn't feel right, and if we had gone further-" He couldn't suppress the vicious shudder that tore through his body at the thought, at the memory of Pansy being so close to him and feeling as if he were shedding his skin. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us. And I couldn't do that to you."

A fragment of anger melted from her face.

"As for Theo? I guess I was drunk and annoyed. Annoyed by what happened."  _And the sight of emerald-greens_ , a voice whispered. He ignored it, saying, "Annoyed by his horrible timing. And I was also mad about what he said to you so I suppose I wanted to throw it back at him."

"That has to be one of the stupidest forms of chivalry I ever heard."

"I know."

She stared at him and shook her head, turning her gaze over to the window.

He took a step forward. "I'm really sorry."

Pansy watched the slow, steady fall of snow, the flakes reflecting in her eyes. She was a pretty girl. Not stunning as Delacour, but Pansy was attractive, her hair still long from the spell she used for the ball, loose and spilling over her shoulders, skin smooth with a light-pink tinge, eyes steady and cool as the snow falling outside. Yet when Draco looked at her, he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel strange bolts of warmth pricking his stomach. He didn't feel lightheaded from standing so close to her. Last night, he focused more on feeling something instead of actually feeling.

"Don't be," she finally said. "Now that I think about it, it's actually a blessing." She looked back at him. "You're a cute, amusing guy darling, but sadly my tastes are set at a higher standard."

Even knocked down, Pansy was still Pansy. She was much like him in that aspect; it was what made them such good friends. It was why they would only be friends.

"As for Nott, your loose lips turned out to be an angel in disguise," she said. "Nott is an idiot and any inkling of doubt saying otherwise has been abruptly cut." She glanced down at her nails as if she was considering treating them to a trim.

Any other friend would've gone along with her claim, but Draco couldn't. His mind couldn't let go the image of tears pooling Pansy's eyes as Theo verbally cut her down and walked away. Her body curling into a ball, eyes a thousand miles away, confessing her confusion for Theo. Confusion that was-that was all too similar to what he was going through with Harry.

"Liar."

Pansy's smile faltered for a moment and then quickly snapped back into place. Her eyes tightened, though, as she looked at him. "I suppose it takes one to know one."

Draco bristled. Pansy's smile grew more sharp.

He didn't go back to his room until late night. To his surprise, he came into an empty room, which he was actually grateful for. He still no idea what he was going to say to Harry. How was he going to explain the fact that he went with Pansy because he couldn't stand seeing him twirl and laugh with the stupid she-weasel? That he freaked out and ran out on Pansy not because he was drunk or scared but because for a moment he saw Harry's eyes gazing up at him? That he said what he said at breakfast was because he was still angry, still jealous, still confused by the "best friend" comment, which hurt the more he thought about it?

He couldn't think of a single explanation.

All too soon the door pushed open and time was no longer an option. Draco's heart leaped to his chest as Harry walked into the room, his hair surprisingly damp, dust powdered on his clothes, the egg he stolen from the dragon tucked into his arm.

He looked almost surprise to see Draco as Draco was by his appearance.

"Draco-"

"Look what I-" Draco's body went still as a strange scent tickled his nose, his brows furrowing as he walked over to Harry. He smelt hundreds of soaps clinging onto his skin but his nose caught the faintest scent of chestnuts and honey.

The scent of a Hufflepuff.

Red swept across his vision. "Why the hell do you smell like Diggory?"

Surprise knocked out of Harry's eyes as they narrowed into cold slits. He shook his head and dropped the egg on the table. He nearly flinched when he turned around to find Draco right behind him.

" _Why the hell do you smell like Diggory?_ "

"Why the hell do you care?"Harry stepped around him, leaving Draco no choice but to glare at his back.

Draco knew he shouldn't give into anger, he shouldn't pay any mind to envy's infuriating snickers, but when one was crossed between anger and rationality, anger typically won. "Did you two exchange notes about Chang before, during, or after your bath time?"

Harry was halfway over to the other side before he paused, one foot raised midair. Slowly he placed it down. Slowly he looked over at him. Draco found himself looking into stone: hard, dark stone that were cold as they were brittle.

"One," Harry said. "Cedric only helped me figure out how to open the egg. Two, you are the absolute last person to stand there and judge. Three, if something did happen, then it's as Pansy so beautifully pointed out 'is none of your damn business.'" His lips curled into a smile except it was all wrong, deprived of any warmth. "After all, a kiss is the same as any other.  _Completely, utterly irrelevant._ "

Draco would have happily welcomed a hex, a stinging hex that would maim his face. A punch to the gut that would knock the air out from his lungs. Either one would have been kinder, hurt a million times less than having his own words flung at his face.

He tried pushing through the shock of pain by taking in a deep breath, then another, and another as he took slow steps toward him. "What I said…I didn't mean it. I just…I…"

If there were ever a time he needed goddamn blasted words, now would be the time. Only his tongue was useless, his brain complete shite.

Harry studied him for a moment and then shook his head. "It's late. I need a shower-again. And you need sleep."

"But-"

Harry disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.


	36. The key, the key. Lies in the gillyweed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FREEDOM. FREEEEEEEEDOM. Finally did my last test. I am free. I am happy. I am tired but mostly happy, thank God

The year ended off with an outrageous winter and constant surprises, one falling right after the other that carried over to the New Year.

January was meant for new beginnings, but it was hard to wipe the slate clean when drama from the previous year was still lurking over their heads despite their attempts to ignore and move on. February, the coldest month of the year where Mother Nature unleashed storm upon storm of snow, was easier to settle into and attempt to move on-and that was only because Harry had bigger things to worry about.

For the past few months, four main thoughts have been spinning around in Harry's head.

First was the second task. It was pure coincidence on how he got the egg to finally open. Cedric came up to Harry after he rushed out of the Great Hall and placed a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. With a gentle smile, he told him to think things over with a bath, advising him to bring the egg with him, but he never mentioned how to go about opening the egg. Harry placed it beside him before he slipped into the large tub overflowing with bubbles, enjoying the hot water that managed to take his mind off things. Away from breakfast, away from Draco.

He must have been more relaxed than he thought he was because the next thing he knew, his arm hit against something that fell into the water, and his eyes snapped open at the sound of gurgled voices. It was like buckets of paint fell into the water, filling it with different colors. Blue, purple, light pink. Underneath the mass of colors was the gurgling sound, words to a song he couldn't distinguish through the water.

He slid under the surface, cocooned in a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the egg.

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past the hour-the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back_

He wondered if the judges thought it would be fun to add an element trait to the tasks. The first one, the champions had to battle their way through fire, compliments to the fire-breathing dragons. Now water.

It didn't take Harry long to figure out the next task had to do with the lake, which would be the only place big enough and-to be honest-sensible enough to use as a setting, and that it involved the mermaids. It helped that the beautiful mermaid swimming around in the portrait of the perfects' bathroom giggled and flipped her tail excitedly as he listened to the song over again, breaking apart the lyrics until he got the full interception.

The second thing was what happened after the bath. He opened the Marauders' Map to figure out the best way to get back to his dorm and was stunned when he saw a name moving close by Severus's office. Bartemius Crouch.

But that made no sense. Mr. Crouch was supposed to be too ill to go to work. He was too ill to come to the Yule Ball. Many of teachers, including Dumbledore, were surprised by his lack of attendance. So what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts so late? Harry watched closely as the dot moved around the room, pausing here and there.

Harry hesitated, spilt between two thoughts. One that told him he should mind his business and go back to his room. The other that grew more curious watching the dot move around, wondering what the man could be up to. Against better judgment, Harry went with the second option, heading to the nearest staircase, walking as quietly as possible to Severus's office.

He only managed to get so far before he was cornered, tailed by Mrs. Norris who may not have seen him thanks to the Invisibility Cloak but sensed that there was something hiding by the alcove, prowling closer and closer to him. She only backed off, skidding away when her ears picked up the dangerous undertone in Severus's snarl.

Harry couldn't blame her. He was just as terrified, even more so when Severus came into view, his face taking on a violent red color, the vein in his temple pulsing more rapidly when Moody, who Harry hadn't realized was standing there till he stepped closer, implied that there was more than just potion ingredients in Severus's office.

" _You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft voice that made the hairs on Harry's neck stand. "as you've searched my office quite thoroughly."_

_Harry made out the faint, odd smile twisting Moody's face. "Auror Privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye-"_

" _Dumbledore happens to trust me," said Severus through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"_

"' _Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me-I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"_

_His uncle suddenly did something very strange. He seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though something on it had hurt him._

_Harry leaned closer, but then Moody's good eye shifted over to the alcove he was hiding in, looking right at him as if he could see him._

" _Best be on your way, Snape," Moody said, his eyes fixed on Harry. "I've passed by that Peeves ghost. Seems awfully fond of you."_

_Severus balled his fists so tight, Harry could have sworn that he could hear the bone breaking. He shot Moody a lethal glare and strode down the hall._

_Harry held his breath, commanding his body not to move even an inch when Moody's eye stared at him, feeling like a mouse caged in by a cat. He had no idea how long they stayed in that position. Could have been minutes, could have hours. All Harry knew was that it felt like a sweet reckoning from Merlin himself when Moody directed his gaze to the front and hobbled down the hall, going the opposite direction Snape took. That was when he was finally able to draw breath, relieving his burning lungs that were dying for air, relaxing his body that felt stiff as a statue._

_His head was spinning with questions over what he just heard as he walked back to his room, quickly and quietly, where another tensed conversation was waiting for him._

A soft tap against the shoulder brought Harry back to the present. He blinked once, twice, and studied his surroundings. To his left, Hermione's eyes were scanning the contents of the three thick books laid out in front of her, her bushy hair more fizzy than usual from all the scratching she's done for the past few hours, muttering to herself as she read. To his right, Theo who was the one who tapped him gestured to the books stacked in front of Harry before returning to his own pile. Half of which that were stacked into a tall tower, the other half which was spread open, his eyes jumping from the pages of one book to the next. Across from him, Ron looked like he was half-reading, half-dozing with his book.

Not that Harry could blame him. They've been in the library since two and a quick glance at the clock told him it was just after nine.

All of them resembled the same emotions bouncing rapidly inside him like frenzied Bugler balls. The night before the second task and Harry felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare-a numbing, head-killing, tiring nightmare. It's been months since he figured out the second task and still he hadn't find the right spell or charm that would help him breathe underwater. He cursed him for letting his mind wander during class, figuring the professor must have discussed a long-lasting water charm that he tuned out.

He and his friends have been in the library every day since Boxing Day, hours spent hunched over books, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from one another by the massive piles of books on the desk. Harry's heart gave a huge leap every time he saw the word "water" on a page, but more often than not it was merely " _Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt..._ "

"I don't reckon it can be done," said Ron flatly. "There's nothing.  _Nothing_. Closest thing was that trick to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."

"There must be something," Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of  _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms_ with her nose about an inch from the page. "They'd never have set a task that was undoable."

"Well, now they have." Ron yawned into his fist before stretching out his stiff limbs. "Look, Harry, all else fails, just go down into the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, and yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate."

Harry's response was a groan as he rested his forehead against his hand. Hermione rolled her eyes. Theo laid down his book and looked at Ron, his thick brow arched high.

"When you talk, Weasley," he asked. "Do you hear it or is there a big roaring in your ear?"

Ron glowered at him.

Hermione shook her head and went back to her books. "There's a way of doing it!" she said. "There just has to be!"

"And there is," Theo insisted, his tone just a tab bit more relaxed compared to Hermione's. "we just haven't found it yet."

Hermione didn't look too convinced, her lips pursed as she flipped through the pages of her books, shaking her head. She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before. Theo refused to give up on it, believing the library will come through for them.

"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting, facedown, on  _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts._  "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius."

"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" Ron said.

Theo pinched the edge of his nose, growling, "Weasley, ears, clean them."

"Shut it, Nott!"

"Or a frog." Harry yawned. He was exhausted.

"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything." Hermione said vaguely, now squinting down the index of  _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions_. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember…you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office…what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it…"

"Hermione, I was joking," said Harry wearily. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning."

"I still vote for the sticking head in and demanding the thing back notion." Ron said.

"Weasley. Mouth. Shut." Theo was clearly at the end of his rope. He shot Harry a look that said why on earth was Ron was here with him that Harry answered back with a one-shoulder shrug.

Ron was still on a thin ice with Harry over the month-long cold shoulder treatment and was trying to patch things up between them. He went after Cormac McLaggen who was still sneering at Harry, thinking he cheated his way, threatening to turn the boy into a leech. He caught up with Harry , carrying hundreds of copies of Rita Skeeter's latest article in his arms, suggesting with a wink that they make a bonfire. He apologized to Hermione the morning after the ball for the way he acted, though Harry noticed that the look on his face was a sour one and that it took a couple of side-elbowing from Harry for the words to come out. After charms, he volunteered to help Harry and the others research a way to breathe underwater, and who was Harry to deny offered help? They needed a fresh set of eyes.

"Oh, this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut  _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas_. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hairs grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," Fred chimed in. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Harry, Hermione, Theo, and Ron looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from the bookshelves.

"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked.

"Looking for one Miss Hermione Granger," George said, looking down at her. "McGonagall wants you."

"Me?" Hermione asked at the same time Ron said, "Why?"

"Dunno…she was looking a bit grim, though." Fred said.

"We're suppose to take you down to her office," George said.

Hermione slowly rose from her seat, gathering her things. "I'll meet you boys as soon as I can." Harry spotted anxiety marring her face as she followed the twins out.

"Weird," Ron commented as soon as they were gone. "What do you think McGonagall wanted Hermione for?"

"The exact opposite for what Moody wants with him." Theo answered.

Confused, Harry turned to the direction of Theo's head jerk, a pang slitting across his chest as he watched Moody lead a sour-face Draco out of the library, away from his assignments and his study partner, a pretty auburn-haired Slytherin whose appearance made the slit wound widened that looked just as disappointed by his departure as Draco was annoyed by it.

"Wonder what Malfoy did this time?" Ron said.

His mouth pinched into a tight scowl, Theo returned his attention back to the books. "What he always does best: run his mouth."

Harry said nothing, watching them go, eyes focused on the fourth thing that's been on his mind. He only looked away when Draco turned back once, as if he could feel Harry's gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

_It doesn't matter_ , he told himself.  _It doesn't matter_. If only he could believe those words, then his life would been so much easier.

Given everything that was going on, the fact the second task was rumored to be more challenging than the first, the fact the stakes were higher since all bets were on Harry and he needed to top his performance from the dragon, now of all times would be when he needed his best friend the most. But it was hard to be around him when it hurt too much.

Maybe hurt was a tad dramatic but it was the best Harry could come how with, the best word to describe how he felt when Theo made his little morning announcement. When he saw Pansy's face going white, Draco's eyes pointedly looking the other direction, remembering how much of a mess he looked and finally understanding why he did. When Draco scoffed at him for trying to get answers, brushing him off, saying all kisses were the same and unimportant. It was as if someone jabbed a knife into Harry's back, getting him right in the chest, the knife twisting slowly, painfully, the longer he sat at the table. The more memories from their moment together merged with images of Draco and Pansy entangled in each other, mouths fused together flashed through his head, turning his stomach.

He bolted from the Great Hall quickly, feeling as though he was seconds away from throwing up.

Harry actually was grateful to Cedric for coming up and giving him the hint about the bath. Time in the prefects' bathroom, lounging in the large porcelain tub helped him forget about what happened. Until he came back to the room and Draco somehow smelled Cedric's scent on him, implying something else went on between them other than exchanged tips.

And just like that, the knife inserted itself-deeply, painfully-into his body, making breathing almost difficult. At that moment, Harry wanted to share that pain. He wanted to hurt Draco. He wanted to hurt him more than he ever wanted anything else in his life.

He had done just that, using his own words against him. It didn't make him feel any better though. If anything, it worsened the pain. The sort of pain the weighed down heavily like an elephant standing on his shoulders, on his chest. A sort of pain that couldn't be washed away in a long, hot shower. The type sleep couldn't cure, causing him to toss and turn throughout the night, those images of Draco and Pansy together playing over and over again.

Harry had hoped Draco would say something, anything. Explain to him what had happened. Help him understand. Make those images stopped. But the next morning, Draco looked at him, opened his mouth, and then shut it, shaking his head and crawling out of the bed to head to the bathroom. The knife in Harry's chest changed into a fist, a tight fist slowly crushing his heart into pulp.

Since then they…they-they….well, whatever going on between them was much better, far calmer compared to how things were faring with Draco and Theo. The few times Draco actually tried to Theo, Theo shot him venomous looks that promised long hours of unbearable torture before death and quickly Draco fired his own lethal glares back at the boy, happy to oblige to the silence. Still, their spat was much better compared to Pansy and Theo. Before the two were constantly at each other's throats, snarling like rapid dogs. Now, silence hung over them, Theo diving himself more into books, Pansy spending time with Daphne and ignoring the whispers and snickers, staying as far as each other as possible, pretending the other didn't exist. Before Harry would have considered a quiet Theo and Pansy a miracle, but now he was cautions about their silence. Their heavy, tense, suffocating silence that was a semi-calmness cover meant to hide a massive storm that would rip them all apart.

Harry hoped that they'd be miles away from sight when that storm hit.

As for him and Draco, they weren't fighting. They weren't shooting each other dark looks. They weren't ignoring each other. They were just…existing. They slept in their rooms without complaint, sometimes even in the same bed if the other was too tired to make the journey to his own even though they slept at opposite sides, strictly keeping themselves to their own spaces. They hung out with each other, though that usually was with another friend and lately that's been happening less with Harry dedicating most of his time to prep for the second task and Draco tending to his growing fan-club in which one to several members were usually seen hanging off his arm. They still talked, but it was usually cool and polite, the sort of stiff conversation you had with someone for the sake of time.

Things were fine, normal almost. As normal as it can be with a huge elegant dangling over them that refused to go away. As normal as it can be when the knife was still in his chest, still twisting as Draco's dismal played over in his head, the memory of what happened between them after the ball that was now tainted since that was a duplicate of what went on earlier. A possibly piss-poor, stupid duplicate that didn't mean anything.

_It doesn't matter_ , Harry told himself.  _It doesn't matter._

Only it did. And he had no idea why.

They were best friends-just best friends. The only thing they owed each other was trust, loyalty. Draco owe nothing more than that to Harry and he the same. They were free to be with other people. In fact they had. Harry nursed a few crushes he was willing to pursue such as Cho and had a fun but brief summer romance with Kilia. Draco had his own fun in the retreat. So why was this time so different? Why did it hurt so much to look at Draco now? To look at Pansy? Was it because instead of it being a stranger, Draco was with someone they both knew, a girl they've known most of their lives that Harry thought till then they both saw as a sister?

"They're gone." Theo said.

Harry gave a weak nod in thanks and then met Ron's questioning eyes.

"Do I even want to know?"

"No."

Ron nodded and went back to reading. Harry had never been more grateful to him.

Around midnight, Ron finally called it a night, claiming there was only reading his brain could handle before it shut down. Hermione still hadn't come back from her meeting with McGonagall. Most likely she decided to go with Ron's approach and get some sleep. Harry and Theo were at their wit's ends, going through more than half of books that covered water and spells around it, finding some charms that only lasted a few minutes but nothing that was helpful.

"This is hopeless." Harry shut the book in his hands and shoved it aside, using more force than necessary. Madame Pince shot him a warning glare.

"You're giving up too easily." Theo complained, despite the fact his own frown grew tighter with every passing hour.

"Maybe we're going about this wrong." Harry rubbed his eyes. Hours spent hunched over books, flipping through thousands of pages, took a toll on them. "At this point, I might as well try my luck with an air bubble. Or offer the mermaids seed-weed as a trade off."

"Sure," Theo commented. "And while you're back it, present them with the nicest flower from the gardens and give them a nice snog for extra measure."

"You know," Harry looked up to see Neville standing across from them, an excited grin on his face. "If you're interested in plants, you should use  _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_." His excitement grew as he explained. "There's someone in Tibet who's growing gravity resistant trees-"

"Neville, no offense," Harry wasn't sure if was exhaustion from little sleep, frustration from hours spent finding nothing, or both but he felt his patience at it's' wit end. "But I really don't care about plants. Now, if there's a Tibetan turnip that will help breathe underwear for an hour, great. But otherwise-"

Neville took a step forward, his expression bemused, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know about turnips, but you could always use gillyweed."

Harry stared at him as if Neville had spoken pig-Latin. "Gillyweed?"

"Gillyweed?" Theo echoed, sounding just as stunned.

"Yea," Neville said. "The taste isn't exactly great but it gives you the abilities of a fish and should last enough to help you."

"That...that's brilliant." Harry said. "Neville, you're a genius."

A beam of pride came over his face.

Theo's mouth dropped open and his arms fell limply to his sides. He looked like he wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed that Neville managed to find the answer they spent weeks looking for or impressed that he came up with it so quickly. "Well," he finally said once he retrieved his slacked jaw. "Seems Granger isn't the only Gryffindor with a functioning brain after all."

* * *

Harry dreamt about the mermaid in the painting in the prefects' bathroom, her beautiful face wicked, eyes cold, laughing at him. He was bobbling like a cork in a bubbly water next to her rock while she held his Firebolt over his head.

"Come and get it!" she giggled maliciously. "Come on, jump!"

"I can't," Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. "Give it back!"

She pulled the broom higher and opened her mouth wide. Only instead of cruel laughter, a different sort of sound emerged, a loud, obnoxious sound that belonged to members of a marching band, the instruments, especially the horn-blaring. Growing louder and louder till he felt like his skull shaking from the sound, his ears ringing.

Harry yelped and fell off the couch when the marching band came closer to him, blowing a sharp key directly into his eardrum.

"Argh," he miserably groaned from the ringing bouncing around his skull and the too-bright, much too-early morning sunlight that flooded the room. His backside and arse throbbing from the graceless fell; he rubbed his ears to quiet the sound.

He looked up to find that the enthusiastic horn-player to be Blaise playing a cheerful tune on the golden instrument and meeting Harry's glare with a smile.

"Morning, Potter." He grinned. "I give you your AM wake-up call."

Harry was so tired last night from their library session and helping Neville prepare the gillyweed that when Theo offered the couch in his dorm, he didn't think much of it. Now, with his back sore, ears still ringing, he wished he made the extra few steps to his room.

He looked over at Theo who slowly rose from his bed, hair askew, the look of irritation and murder swirling in his eyes. "You deal with this?"

"Every. Single. Morning." Theo hissed through clenched teeth.

Groaning, Harry said to Blaise, "You know you could always shake us awake."

Blaise shrugged. "True but where's the fun in that?" With that said, he broke out into another cheer, painfully-loud tune.

After resisting the urge to shove the horn down Blaise's throat, Harry pulled himself off the ground and went to his room to get ready, a sense of dread stirring inside his stomach like cement. The last task, he barely managed to get a few bites down without his stomach hurting from the nerves. Now, it was a struggle to brush his teeth with his hands so shaky. He tried to calm himself, remind himself that he did well in the last task. But rationally pointed out that sheer luck came through in the end. It was hard to see how it would play out underwater.

What if something went wrong like it did with his broom? What if the gillyweed only got him to the bottom of the lake and then failed on him? What if the gillyweed's power wore out before he could get back what was stolen? What if he had to fight a band of mermaids?

Grumbling to himself, Harry took a quick shower, which seemed ridiculous since in awhile he'd been soaked in seawater but calmed a bit of his nerves. He pulled on a sleeveless green shirt and his swim trunks he covered with a jacket and sweatpants.

He met the others in the common room. Goyle and Crabbe were still half-asleep, leaning against each other. Daphne waved at him, then elbowed Blaise in the side for the likely-wicked comment he whispered in her ears. Theo still looked vexed from the horn wake-up call. Pansy, who was sitting at the far opposite end, shot him a tentative smile that Harry softly returned.

It would have been too easy to furious at her, but Harry couldn't. Pansy was a good friend, one of the first who had been taken by him when Draco introduced him to the group when they were kids. She was also still going through her own turmoil with Draco, though the two remained friendly with each other, Theo whom she pretended was a speck of dirt, and most of the school. People still talked about what happened after the Yule Ball. Guys still came up to her, wanting to see if there was a confirmation to those rumors. Coming across Cormac McLaggen smirking at her as he cornered her and hexing his arse for getting too close pushed aside any anger Harry might have felt.

"Ready for your early-morning swim, darling?" She asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"As long as Longbottom remembers to bring the gillyweed to the lake, you should be fine." Theo said.

Blaise's left brow arched. "You are aware you're referring to the same boy who was given a rememberall and didn't have a clue on how to use it, right?"

Harry would have glared at him if he didn't notice that something was off, though it was hard to put his finger on it. He scanned his friends, Goyle and Crabbe's exhausted faces, Pansy checking her nails, Daphne rolling her eyes at Blaise. A knot began twisting in his stomach as he noticed the lack of white-blond hair.

"Where's Draco?"

"Isn't he in your room?" Daphne frowned.

He shook his head. He was surprised to find the bed unmade and the room empty but he assumed Draco decided to meet up with the others early.

"Well, he has to be somewhere. I know. Why not ask his biggest fan?" Theo turned over to Pansy for the first time in months to send off a cold, taunting smile. "Happen to have any ideas?"

Before Pansy would've returned the smile with a dark hex that would claw Theo's face like a cat. Instead, she passed along a look that could melt skin clean off the bone and then looked back at Harry to pass along a shrug. "Haven't seen him since last night. Stephanie complained that he didn't come back to their little study date."

Theo shrugged. "Must be recovering from his meeting with Moody."

"Yeah, but-" The words fell into the mist as a feeling snuck into him, coiling in his stomach like a snake, closing in tighter and tighter.

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

His eyes snapped wide open.

"Harry?"

"Dear Merlin, he's gone white."

"Are you okay?" A hand touched him, maybe Pansy or Daphne, he wasn't sure. His mind was too wired, too loud from the memories flashing in his head.

_Warmth curled his chest as the blond prince smiled at him, reaching for his hand. "I never had a best friend before either. I didn't like any of the other kids. They're not as fun as you."_

Dear Merlin.

" _But," Harry said. "Since you're also my best friend that means you're also my boy. Which means you're mine, too."_

_The smile on Draco's face broadened to a grin. He drew Harry to his chest, resting his head on his hair. "Then it's settled then. I'm yours and you're mine."_

Dear bloody Merlin.

_He didn't even need to turn around to feel shoulders shrugging him, sensing those gray eyes rolling in annoyance. The owner to those eyes hated being ignored more than anything else, especially by him._

" _Well," Draco said. "I'm a prat and you're a git. Aren't we a pair?"_

_Harry shrugged with indifference and kicked off his left shoe, then worked to undo the other. He refused to turn around when the bed rocked from Draco's movements as he crawled to him, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders, laying his head on his shoulder._

" _Despite it all, you're still my favorite person."_

_Silence met those words and Harry was determined to keep it that way, refusing to break it. His defenses started to weaken as Draco kissed his cheek._

" _Just like I'm yours."_

_Damn him. Damn himself too and his weak defenses for crumbling. Harry made his face neutral as he undid his laces and kicked off the other shoe. He stared straight ahead for what felt like hours before he sighed and leaned into him, one of his hands covering Draco's. "Yes," he finally said. "Even though I question why."_

_Draco dropped another kiss on his cheek, holding him tight. "Because I'm so pretty."_

" _Get the hell over yourself." Harry laughed, elbowing him away._

Dear. Bloody. Stinking.  _Merlin._

All this time, he thought his Firebolt was going to be used as a prop for the second task, would be the thing that'd get taken when it was really wasn't a thing but a person. A person who was one of important people in Harry's life even when he was furious with him, someone he'd miss the most.

Someone he only had an hour to get back before he was lost forever.

" _Draco!"_


	37. Most Valuable Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS (eve)-although I think for some of you it may already be Christmas. May your holidays be merry and bright...and that this chapter is to your liking

Harry was vaguely aware of the noises around him, voiced concerns of his friends telling him to breath, to relax, that things would be okay. Worded comfort that made him more tense, more anxious. He was aware of the questioning glances that took in the expression of his face as he walked by. Was aware of the cold that bite into his skin as he shed his jacket and pants, racing over to the pier where the other Champions were standing, balling the gillyweed Neville gave him like mush.

All of it was white noise, floating around his head that felt like he was at the bottom of that lake.

Where Draco was.

_They got Draco. They took Draco._

Harry still couldn't believe he didn't put the pieces together sooner. Of course, they would take Draco, his best friend who was such a prat sometimes Harry wanted to punch him in the mouth, who could wrangle a smile out of Harry when he was annoyed with him, casting irritation to bygones.

The thing he would miss the most that was at the bottom of the lake.

Harry glanced down at the mucky water that looked greenish than clear blue and so dark, he could scarcely make out his reflection. What was being done to Draco right now? Was he held in some sort of cage, banging against the bars? Was he bobbing about with his ankles tied to some sort of block, smirking mermaids surrounding him, laughing as he struggled not to breathe even though his lungs were starving for air? Was his body simply floating around, hollow and cold?

Harry broke into violent shivering that Fleur looked at him, worry marred her face.

"Is all well, 'arry?"

Bagman then came over to give Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table. He pointed to his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, " _Sonorous!_ " and his voice boomed out across the dark water towards the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two… _three!_ "

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, stuffed the mashed gillyweed his shaky hands crushed into his mouth, and waded into the water.

It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. Still he forced himself to keep going, step after step. He chewed the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it tasted unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited.

Then suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck-

Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air…He had gills. Without a second thought or hesitation, he did the only thing that made sense-he flung himself forward in the water.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him, studying them. They looked green and ghastly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet-they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too. It was as if he sprouted flippers.

The water didn't sting as it did before. It didn't even feel cold. It felt nice. He felt nice, pleasantly cool and very light. After one more glance at his webbed hands and flipper-like feet, Harry began to swim, moving so far and fast that he was soon approaching the depths of the lake.

Silence pressed upon him, deadly silence that matched the semi-darkness of the water with the only source of light coming from the sunshine above whose beam grew dimmer the deeper Harry swam. The waters held no plants or underwear creatures in sight, so he dove deeper and deeper until he came black seaweed tickling his legs as he passed by them. He swam further in, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Few times he'd fear when he spotted something large ahead, fearing it to be a shark or the giant squid, only to discover it was a large, blackened log, or a dense clamp of weed. There was no sign of any of the champions, merpeople, or Draco.

Which meant that he wasn't being tortured as he thought. Harry clung onto that hope for dear life.

Just a bit further.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of overgrown grass. Harry stared unblinkingly ahead, trying to discern shapes through the gloom. There had to be a spot somewhere. Some secret passageway. Or a hole. Or-

_Wait, there!_

A shape, a moving shape. This was much bigger than the small fish he had encountered before. No, this looked more the size of a small child.

He found his way. Now he just needed to find a way through the-

Harry let out a pained gasp as he felt small horned hands dig into his ankle. He twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, clinging onto his foot, its long fingers deeply planted into his skin. He stuck his webbed hand quickly into his swimming trunks and fumbled for his wand. By the time he grabbed it, two more grindylows slipped out of the weed and seized his legs, trying to drag him down.

" _Relashio!_ " Harry shouted, except no sound came out…A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin.

Harry yanked his ankle free and swam as fast as he could; occasionally turning back to send more jets of water in case they were tailing him. Once he reached a safe distance, he put away his wand and studied his surroundings.

It was so dark. It was no better here than it was in the beginning. There didn't seem to be anything but-

"How are you getting on?"

Heart leaping up to his throat, Harry whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses.

"Myrtle!" Harry tried to shout-but once again, nothing came out but a large bubble. Moaning Myrtle giggled at him.

"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you…I don't like them very much, they always chase me when I get too close."

Harry gave her a thumbs-up to show his thanks and set off once more.

He swam for what felt like twenty minutes, maybe even longer. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of the song.

" _An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…"_

Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it, carrying spears, chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the song.

"… _your time's half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"_

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces, faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the beautiful mermaid in the prefects' bathroom.

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark-green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry sped on, starting around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; gardens of weed, rocks that were shaped like homes, and grindylows floating around, baring their teeth at him. More merpeople came out, flanked by his left and right, spears clutched in their hands, their mouths twisted into cold smiles as they lend their voices to the haunting song.

He swam straighter ahead, entering into what looked to be an underwater village, where more mermpeople came out to sing and smirk, where his eyes made out a statue that was dabbed in the center of the village; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder.

Harry froze as he came closer to the statue. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Draco was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no more than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry sure that she was Fleur's sister.

He quickly swam to Draco, his eyes examining him for any bruises, any cuts, any proof of the torture Harry's mind imagined. He didn't appear hurt. No bruises. But he looked pale, more than the usual light Malfoy complexion, severally, unnaturally pale. And he wasn't moving.

The last thing Harry had seen someone that pale, that still, she was bathed in her own blood, dark scarlet red that matched the shade of her hair.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and shook his head to clear the memories, slowly moving forward. He cupped Draco's face in his hand, his stomach churning at how clammy his skin felt, and placed the other on his neck, searching for a pulse.

_Please,_ he begged.  _Please, please, please._  If there was a pulse, he'd pretend that awful breakfast at the Yule Ball never happened. He'd forget how hurt he was when Draco scoffed at him, saying that kisses were silly and all the same. He'd forgot how much he was still hurting from that day, more so from Draco's words than Theo's announcement, and promise never be angry with him again.

Then, as if Merlin decided to show him mercy, his fingers picked up the faintest flutter beneath their touch. Harry could have cried right on the spot, not caring if there was an audience, if the merpeople gawked and laughed at him.

Biting his quivering lip, he glanced down at the ropes that there were keeping him and the others bound. The ropes were made of weed, thick and slimy and very strong. For a fleeting moment he thought about the knife Sirius gave him for Christmas that was resting in the drawer back in his room and cursed himself for not bringing it.

He looked around. Many of the merpeople were carrying spears. He swam swiftly towards a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark teeth hanging from his neck, trying to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head.

"We do not help," he said in a harsh, croaky voice.

"Come ON!" Harry said fiercely, only producing more bubbles. He tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head, still laughing.

Harry swirled around, eyes darting over the area. Something sharp…something sharp…he needed something sharp. Something that would cut the ropes easily like a spear. Something like-

The rocks! He dived to the bottom and snatched up a particularly jagged one that resembled a blackish knife and returned to the statue. He began to hack the ropes binding Draco, and after several minutes of cutting, they broke apart. Draco floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. Where the hell were they? Why didn't they hurry up?

He glanced back at the hostages that were still tied to the statue, still unconscious. Hermione's hair spread around her head like seaweed. He couldn't leave her behind. He swam over to her, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings too-

At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen merman were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said. "Leave the others…"

"No way!" said Harry furiously-but only two large bubbles came out.

"Your task is to retrieve your friend…leave the others…"

" _She's_  my friend too!" Harry yelled, gesturing towards Hermione.

"Let him take her. I want this one instead." He whirled around, heart throbbing painfully in his chest, as he came across Draco enveloped in the arms of a merwoman who looked a few years older than him, her green hair so dark it appeared black. She looked the least terrifying of the bunch, almost pretty, until she looked down at Draco, eyes hungry. The skin around her face tightened until veins were popping out, dark blue. "He looks delicious."

Red swept across Harry's vision like a cloak. " _Get the hell away from him!_ " He fired his wand at her, proud to see that the jet of water knocked her all the way back, far from sight and the painful shriek that came along with the hit.

The moment of triumph only lasted for a second before arms seized him, pulling Harry back. He tried to break free but the merpeople were stronger than they looked.

One of them, the same merman he tried getting the spear, stood in front, studying Harry like he wasn't sure which place he wanted to strike first. But then, he looked up, his eyes widening. One by one, they all looked up, pointing. Harry stole a glance, spotting Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched.

"Got lost." he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!"

Relieving melting in his body, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

He looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting too short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour…

The mermpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned around and saw something cutting through the water, barreling toward him. It was a shark, or at least the head of a shark attached to a human body in black swimming trunks.

Harry realized with a start that it was Krum. He must have used a transfiguration spell-and from the looks of it didn't have the best of luck with it.

Krum swam to Hermione and began snapping and biting the ropes. The problem was Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly and duller than the teeth of a newborn. He wasn't getting anywhere with the rope.

Darting forward, reeling Draco along with him, Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum took it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, the ropes were cut, Hermione was free, and Krum took her back to the surface.

Three down. Harry stole a glance at the little girl that was still tied. One more to go. Fleur was coming, she had to be. Yet seconds were running by and still no sign of her.

To hell with it. He snatched the rock Victor left behind and headed over to her, but the merman surrounded him, shaking his head. Harry pulled out his wand.

"Get out of the way!"

Bubbles flew from his mouth but Harry understood from the fear of their eyes and remembrance of what happened to the mermaid, they understand they were dealing with a threat. They lowered their spears, slowly backing away. Keeping a hold of Draco, Harry broke the ropes and secured an arm around her waist, kicking himself to the surface.

It was a slow, hard process. Harry couldn't use his webbed hands to push himself faster; his flippers were working on overtime, kicking as hard as they could, already aching. His rescued captives weren't helpings things either. Fleur's sister was a light little girl and Draco wasn't that heavy, but they dragged like sacks of potatoes in the water.

_Just a bit longer_ , he told himself.  _Just a bit longer._

Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of holding onto Draco and the girl…

Breathing was suddenly turning into a difficulty, each draw of breath sending a sharp pain to his chest. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again…he was becoming aware of how wet the water was in his mouth…yet the darkness was thinning now…he could see daylight above him…

He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet…water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs...he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were close by….just a few feet away.

He just had to keep swimming. He had to keep going. He needed to-

Pain, intense and swift, bit into his ankle. Biting his lip to hold in a pained gasp, he looked down. The mermaid who had Draco wrapped in her arms dug her clawed, webbed hand into his ankle, breaking apart skin, causing crimson to leak into the water.

"That  _hurt!_ " she growled, tightening her hold.

_Damn it!_  He tried to shake off her hold but she refused to let him go, dragging him down. Panicking, Harry brought Draco and the girl together, casting an air-bubble around them with his wand, and sent them up.

Thank Merlin, he thought. The mermaid used that off-guard moment to her advantage, bringing him down. He tried to move but his body hurt too much, aching from the spell, from the swimming. His brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going.

He glanced at the mermaid, whose face looked like it was belonged to a sea-demon. He was always taught never to strike a woman, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He lifted his free foot up high and brought it down as hard as he could, making sure to land at a good spot. Shrieking, she released her hold, hands flying to her face. Harry wasted no time taking out his wand and firing it up to the sky.

" _Ascendio!_ " he screamed, choking at the rush of water pouring into his mouth.

As if rocket jets were strapped to his feet, Harry was zooming through the air like a torpedo, going higher and higher until air slammed into his lungs as he broke through the water only to get knocked right out as he landed on his stomach on something hard and solid.

It took a long minute for the pain aching in his chest to fade away; for the sound blaring in his head to change from ringing to cheering and applauding. People were up on their feet, screaming excitedly. Harry slowly pulled himself off the ground and was immediately swarmed. His friends congratulating him, Seamus throwing a towel over him and drying him off, Hermione hugging him with a sullen Victor standing by.

"Draco," he croaked over the madness. "Where's-"

Ron jerked his head towards Fleur's sister shivering in her blanket. "Why did you bring her for?"

"Fleur didn't turn up. I couldn't leave her," Harry panted, eyes scanning for Draco.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said. "I doubt that they would seriously let the hostages stay down there-"

Ron was cut off as Fleur fought her way through the crowd to get over to them, knocking the boy aside and throwing herself at Harry, squeezing him tight. Drips of her hot tears fell onto his lips.

"You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yea." Harry said, weakly, trying to get his breathing down.

Fleur kissed him twice on both cheeks, thanking him over and over again. Harry accepted the thanks with half-hearted nods, eyes scanning around the pier for platinum blond. Draco had to be there. Fleur's sister was and he used the air bubble to send them both up.

_Where is he?_

" _MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!"_

Harry never thought he never loved those words more than he did right then. Eyes stinging, he turned his head over to the source of the outraged cry. Draco, alive, conscious, his hair a wet mop, clothes drenched, draped in a towel with Pansy patting him down to warm him up more, carried the look of hellfire fury in his eyes and Harry swore he never saw a more wondrous sight.

Even if the wondrous sight looked like he wanted to burn them all.

Close to an hour later with the performances scored and information on the next task delivered, Draco was still fuming over the lake ordeal, listing over twenty ways uncle Lucius would take the school apart, how savagely butchered Dumbledore's and Moody's and everyone on the judging panel reputations would be after he was through with them.

"They're going to pay to have my clothes cleaned and pressed! They're going to pay to have my skin exfoliated! They're going to pay for  _my hair_!"

Harry walked into their room slowly, every muscle in his body aching madly to the point of numbness. He was so exhausted, he just wanted to fall into his bed and sleep for the rest of the semester.

"When I get my hands on that lemon drop-obsessed, Grandfather time, fortune cookie-spouting miserable goat, I'm going to skin him alive and use the scrapes to wrap Moody's corpse in and then feed it to the lake."

It was funny how Draco was okay, according to Madame Pomfey overexcited yet okay, but still Harry's mind couldn't let go the image of what he saw in the water. Draco just bobbling around, so pale like an empty shell.

"And you! How is it, Potter, every single fucking time danger's thrown your way, I end up getting dragged into it. First there was that sputtering imbecile, then it was the basilisk, mad dogs and rats last year, and now this. I swear to God, it's like you're determined not to see me live to twenty!

His bed was only a few steps away but the step felt too heavy. He settled himself on the ground, leaning against his trunk, drawing up his knees and wrapping him arms around them.

"I should have known my life would constantly be in danger after the bike incident-which my poor heart is still recovering from, thank you very much."

Harry didn't think it was possible for skin to be that white, to be so pale. Actually, he did. He witnessed it. One second she was there, smiling at him with tears in her eyes, telling him to be save. The next she was on the ground, streams of red as bright as her hair pooled around her body, skin paler than snow like the fairytale princess. He tried bringing her back, holding her hand tight, trying to feel something. Unlike then, all he felt was cold skin.

"Harry?" Draco's rants came to a halt, his fury storm vanishing as his tone softened. "Harry?"

He tried to speak but he couldn't. It was like his mouth was filled with dry cement, his lips glued shut. He tried breathing and even that was a challenge.

"Harry?" Draco walked to him, crouching down."Harry, you're scaring me."

He huddled his body tighter, trying to feel warm again.

"Harry." A hand placed itself under his chin and lifted it up, forcing up to look into Draco's eyes that were wiped clean of any trace of anger, completely immersed with concern. "Talk to me."

The funny thing was, he didn't want to talk. He wanted answers to the questions flooding into his mind. Was this how Draco felt when Voldemort's ashes flew through Harry first year before he collapsed? How he felt like last year watching Harry flew from his broom during the Quidditch match? Like his heart was a butterfly flying wildly in a sealed jar, trying to escape. Like everything was coiled up into springs so tight, he could barely remember his body ever feeling relaxed.

He launched himself into Draco's arms, nearly knocking him back, and hold onto him tight, burying his face in the nape of Draco's neck. Draco was frozen stiff as a stature, then quickly returned the embrace, drawing small circles against his back.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. "For everything."

Draco drew in a quiet breath but said nothing else.

"You know why you were down there, right? In the lake?"

"Yes, because I sadly hadn't realized that when a twinkling-eyed goat offers you tea, it's bound to bite you in the arse. And turn you into a drenched cat."

Harry shook his head, his face still pressed against Draco's chest. "It's because of me."

"Obviously."

He shook his head again. "No, I mean, you were there because…because you're the most important thing to me. You're what I'd miss the most if you were gone. Forever."

Silence met his words, pulsing with shock.

"When-when I found out you were taken, my heart stopped right then. And when I found you underwater, you looked so pale, you were so still, and I thought-and I thought..." Harry shuddered and pressed himself more into Draco, holding him tight.

Draco shifted his body till he was more comfortable. He ran his hand through Harry's hair, playing with the untamed curls, soothing his nerves with his gentle touch. "Do you remember the clause you added to our contract?"

Puzzled, Harry tilted his head back, looking up at him. "What clause?"

"First year, when I was upset over what Granger said. I didn't tell you yet about what she said since I was still too scared. You hugged me, sang to me, and said you'd never leave me," A soft smile curled his pink mouth. "Well, I think it's time to make clear that the clause applies for both parties. You'll never leave me and I'll never leave you."

Harry stared at him. Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss so softly on his forehead, Harry could scarcely feel it. As Draco pulled back, a flicker of warmth coiled, burning so hot, it was ice-cold. A flicker that slipped into his heart through one of the cracks and spread like cancer, filling him up with the feeling, drowning him in it. Feelings-unflinching, unconditional care, fierce and overwhelming protectiveness, and that pull, that connection that's always been there between them through laughter, through pain, through fun, through anger, through happiness.

Looking at Draco, Harry finally understood why. Why it hurt so much, he felt physically sick when he found out that Draco was with Pansy. Why his heart felt like Draco crucio'ed it when he said kisses were all the same and irrelevant. Why that night of the Yule Ball Harry almost let go them further than ever before because it felt too good. Why everything, every hug, every touch, every kiss felt so right. Why no matter how many times they'd cut each other down with words, with actions, no matter how furious they were with each other, they always came back together.

_I love him._


	38. Connect the Dots, Connect the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys had an awesome Christmas and got tons of awesome gifts. I know for me, I got soooo many good books. And based on what many of you commented, I apparently made your holidays with the last chapter. Let's see how your feelings will be on this chapter

_The mirror looked just the same as it was the last time he saw it. Sterling silver fogged up with patches of dust or mist, encrusted around a thick, light-gold frame with clawed feet at the bottom. Engraved onto the frame was_ Erised straehru oy tube cafruoyt on wohsi.  _Harry wondered if there was a pull between him and the mirror, a tug that summoned him out of bed, told him go down this hallway and through this room, turning here and there, until he eventually stumbled into the room where it was being kept. Almost as if it were waiting for him._

_He felt like he was eleven years old again, running into a random room to avoid getting caught by Flinch who was on the prowl for students out of bed. When he saw the mirror, it appeared the same as any other, showing him a boy a bit on the skinny side, with messy black hair and glasses that were always crooked no matter how often he tried to fix them._

_Until he saw his parents beside him. His dad, his elder twin, pride and mischief glowing in his eyes. His mum smiling at him with so much love in those familiar emerald-greens, it almost felt like he was back in her arms again._

_They reappeared again, almost like clockwork. His mum first, her smile so gentle a twinge pricked his chest. His dad a second later, a hand placed on the shoulder of Harry's reflection._

" _It's astonishing how much you two look alike."_

_Harry blinked, and then turned over to his left. No one was there. He looked over to his right. Nothing._

" _You've always been slow, Potter. How you managed to actually stay on a broom and not fall on your arse is a mystery to us all."_

_There was only one person he knew that could mix teasing and taunting into words with the same measure._

_Harry turned back to the mirror, his jaw nearly dropping._

_His parents were still there, only now they stood a few feet away, leaving room for Harry and a guest who decided to invite himself to their little soiree. "Draco."_

_He smirked in reply._

" _But-" Harry's eyes did a quick sweep across the room. No one else was here but him. "But how-"_

" _Think, Scarhead. This mirror shows one their greatest heart's desires. So if I'm here…"_

_Harry's heart thudded like a stone tossed onto the lake._

_Draco's smile broadened and softened at once, melting the cold Malfoy exterior shown to the rest of the world, revealing the genuine boy only Harry got to see. His hand reached out from the mirror, his cool fingers brushing against Harry's lower lip, sending a sharp jolt of heat that burst through his veins._

A sound that was a cross between a wordless mumble and a groan slipped from his mouth as he woke up, stretching out his stiff body, popping one green eye opened, then the other.

For a second, Harry thought it was just another morning, getting too little sleep and waking up too soon, his mind only beginning to push away the fogginess of sleep. Till he stretched out his left arm and felt something heavy pinning it down. He turned his head to the side to find Draco still asleep, a slight frown touching his face that soon smoothened out as he pressed himself more into Harry.

Looking at his best friend, everything-the moments, the emotions-came rushing back. Finding out Draco was the hostage; the thing Harry would miss the most. Fear churning his stomach as he raced over to the lake, his mind painting various scenarios of what was being done to Draco, each picture more bone-chilling than the last. That fear intensifying, beating inside him like an eerie crescendo, when he found Draco tied to the statue, his pale stillness so similar-too similar-to his mother's that Harry felt like he was reliving that horrible Halloween night all over again.

Then the aftermath. Draco a soggy mess, ranting on about how he'd destroy everyone involved in his "kidnapping". Harry huddled on the floor, watching him, his head running a hundred different directions, the pieces branching out and overlapping. The anger he felt when he found out about Draco and Pansy, the jagged hurt that cut into his chest like a knife when Draco scoffed at him were knocked out like a blow, replaced by paralyzing terror. Terror melting into sweet relief when he picked up the faintest trace of a pulse humming underneath the pale stillness.

Those emotions rushing inside him, overwhelming and disorientating. He looked back at their relationship that was much different, far deeper than most friendships. How connected they were to each other, two halves that made up a whole. The unbelievable but undeniable fact that no matter what, no matter how hurtful their words or painful their actions were to each other, they always came back together. All of it boiling down to a simple conclusion.

_I love him._

A shiver swept across him like a wave, creating a chain of ripples that pulsed throughout his body.

He was in love with Draco Malfoy.

He, Harry James Potter, was in love with his best friend.

And-and-and it was astonishing, frightening even how the fact didn't terrify him the way it should have.

A frown marred Draco's head as he shifted, arching out his body and settling back down, head nestled half on his pillow, half on Harry's arm. Heat pooled in Harry's stomach while watching that frown change into a soft smile as Draco moved in closer, practically curved around his body.

Harry smiled, brushing a loose strand of white-blond hair away from his eyes, noticing Draco's sleepy smile grow a bit bigger.

His attention was turned away at the sound of the floo, roaring from the fireplace. Quickly untangling himself from Draco, Harry climbed out of bed, threw on his robe, and walked over to the fireplace.

Flames hovered from the mantle, levitating midair, coming together to form a ball that morphed into a face. A familiar face with shaggy hair and laughter glowing in his eyes.

"Kiddo!" Sirius exclaimed; his voice extra loud in the quiet, early morning.

" _Sssh!_ " Harry hissed, taking a peek at Draco. He was sprawled on his back, arms stretched out, the frown back on his face. He muttered something under his breath but didn't move.

"Sorry." Sirius said, dropping his voice to a low mumble. "Got a bit carried away. Can't be blamed though. It's not everyday I get to be the godfather of a two-time winning Triwizard Tournament Champion." Sirius's eyes were bright in amusement. "Who made quite a splash-in more ways than one."

Harry's mind drifted back to the vicious pests that tried to make his ankle their chew toy. The merwoman who got too cozy to Draco and a foot to her face. Draco's body so still, so pale, floating around like a corpse. A shiver lashed through Harry's body, his skin bitten by goosebumps. "Not quite," he murmured underneath his breath, then said in a normal voice, "How's Remus?"

"Good, good. He wanted to talk to you too, but, well," A smirk curved Sirius's mouth. "I kinda wore him out."

There was no way to avoid the implication reeking from those words. A grimace pulling his face, Harry commented, "I could have lived my whole life happily not knowing that."

Sirius winked playfully. Harry rolled his eyes, morphing that wink into a snicker. "When you're happy and in love, kiddo, hardly anything can faze you."

Warmth spread across Harry's cheeks. He fought against the urge to look over his shoulder. He was still trying to process what was going on inside his own head. The last thing he needed was Sirius speculating.

Merlin must have granted him his wish because Sirius said nothing about his pink cheeks. His face, though, grew more somber, less playful. "Anymore appearances from Crouch?"

Harry shook his head. He sent a letter to Sirius telling him about Bartemius Crouch's name appearing on the map, disappearing as soon as it appeared.

A thoughtful, almost-troubled frown marred Sirius's face.

"Maybe it's nothing," Harry offered weakly, though his heart knew that wasn't the case. Why would a Ministry employee, too sick to make public appearances, show up at Hogwarts of all places? Add that to the fact Severus was ranting about missing potion ingredients, it was too much to dismiss as coincidence.

Sirius didn't look anymore convinced than Harry did. "That's actually why I wanted to check in. Well, partially anyway. It's about Crouch and…certain past mishaps."

_Past mishaps?_  Harry's brows ceased. "Like what?"

"I think this is a conversation better face-to-face. When's the next Hogsmeade trip?"

"I think maybe next month, first weekend of March."

"Perfect." Sirius's frown cracked into a smirk. "I'll meet you there."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. While Sirius took full advantage of his renewed freedom by exploring all the must-see sights in the Muggle world, he barely showed his face in wizarding one. Other than St. Mungo's to see his therapist Remus suggested he keep seeing even after Aunt Cissa's mandatory three-session ended. "Really?"

"Really."

They talked for a few more minutes before Sirius had to go, ending their chat with a harebrained comment that had Harry laughing long after the flames were gone.

"Why can't Black be like anyone else and send a letter via owl?"

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart skipping a full three beats. Draco sat up in their bed, rubbing the sleep from his eye, the duvet falling onto the floor. His nightshirt was scrunched up to his stomach, revealing a band of milk-white skin Harry tried hard not to look at.

It was a sight he came across more times than he could count. Now it was hard to look and not pull away his gaze.

When Harry found his voice again, he cleared his throat and said, "You don't seem to mind when Uncle's the one on the other end."

"That's because Father has useful things to say."

"Depending on whom you ask." Harry smirked at the withering glare Draco shot him.

The smirk quickly disintegrated when Draco rolled onto his stomach, stretching out his limbs, causing his shirt to raise higher, exposing more skin and drawing attention to his arse that was arched high in the air.

Harry bit his bottom lip, warmth coiling inside his stomach like a twisted snake, his hands shaking with a great, frantic need to touch. He balled them into tight fists and tucked them underneath his elbows to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"I think I'll go take a shower." Draco said nearly a century later, stretching around in bed like a cat. "I can still feel that mucky lake water on my skin."

Harry nodded weakly, his tongue dry and useless.

Draco climbed out of the bed and did one more stretch, expanding his limbs so far, glimpses of porcelain skin turned to masses from front to back. Harry took note of the flatness of his stomach, the curves of his lips, and again his arse his eyes couldn't stop staring at.

"Give me twenty minutes and we'll see what they have in the Hall." Draco said.

"You do that." Harry mumbled.

His eyes stayed glued to Draco's arse till he went to the bathroom. The second it was gone from sight, Harry's knees nearly gave out, a stammered breath blowing from his lips, as he grabbed onto the chair to keep his balance.

He was so screwed.

* * *

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For lightening to tore through the sky, pointing to the severity of the matter at hand. For an earthquake to strike. For someone to look right at his face and scream, "You're in love with Draco Malfoy!"

It felt like the words were printed onto his forehead like the scarlet A. The words were lodged in his throat, ready to erupt. He was so sure all anyone had to do was just look into his eyes and the truth would be known.

Only no one said anything. Not his friends, not Hermione, not even Draco. His best friend continued on with life as if things were normal, smirking and snarling and grumbling and smiling, having no idea how most of the time Harry's eyes fell on his lips, how badly Harry wanted to take that bottom lip and bite it, how much he affected him.

Harry read, not as much as Theo or Hermione, but he read his fair share of books. He read countless stories about the main character finding themselves falling hard for the jerk they despised with every fiber of their being, the unattainable outsider who managed to get underneath their skin and attach themselves to their heart, the loyal friend who had always been by their side and just beginning to understand how much that friend meant to them. Harry started to feel like one of those characters, falling for someone who was definitely a jerk (no question), scoffed at those who dared stand even twenty feet near if he deemed them unfit, and had been by Harry's side for as long as he remembered.

It was maddening and terrifying and confusing and again terrifying-but all at the time not as much as it should have been.

Gender definitely had little to do with it. He recently came to the realization that he was attracted to both girls and guys, instantly captivated by Kilia as she sashayed away from their table with a wink and also understanding why the girls in his school were so smitten with Cedric. So that was out. It was all really a matter of two things.

The first: age. He was only fourteen years old for crying out loud. On less than one hand, he could sum up the number of people he had been with, not even all the way, with their hands strictly at the waist. He heard stories of people finding the one after they graduated from school, when they were in their wild-and-sometimes-plain-stuck twenties, even at sixteen like his parents did. But never fourteen. Hell, at fourteen, people were just settling into puberty, curious about their new developments and what attracted their eyes.

The second, more importantly, was whom. Looking back, Harry can easily admit that his friendship with Draco definitely wasn't like other friendships. Something ran much deeper between them, something that was almost similar but completely different from being like family. He couldn't imagine being that close to his other friends. Like deciding to try the serpent salute with Blaise, knowing it may make things awkward between them. Not to mention giving Draco a valid reason (at least in his head) to fulfill his wish of sending the boy to the hospital. Harry tried imagining falling asleep close to Theo's side and shuddered at the thought.

Back then, they never talked about it. Maybe they should have, maybe it would have cleared things up. Made things different. And he wanted to, he really did. He'd always look at Draco and wait for him to say something, give him a hint as to what was going through that head of his, those glowing gray eyes burning with so many questions. But Draco would clamp his mouth and stay silent, either out of embarrassment or frustration, though his flushed cheeks pointed to the first. So, for the sake of his best friend's sanity, Harry dropped it, continuing on as if things were normal between them. As if they didn't hold onto each other tight when they were entangled in bed, sometimes needing the warmth, other times because it just felt nice. As if Draco biting into his neck when his nerves were set on high was the same as checking for scratches, needing reassurance that Harry was alright. As if kissing your best friend because of curiosity, fear, anxiety, want, was nothing. Except it was everything.

It took him nine years to finally admit it. Nine years and one hell of a scare that still made him shudder wherever he thought about it.

If there was one good thing that came out of this, it was the fact things were looking up for him socially. His victory from the second task won rave reviews from the judges, despite protests from the other headmasters. The fact he went out of his way to save a little girl who wasn't his hostage melted away any remaining frigid the school had over his name being picked from the cup.

February eased into March, the weather drier but the wind still cold enough to skinned their faces and hands with frostbite. Teachers assigned them mountains of work that took most of the day to finish. People's attention jumped from one latest scandal to the next.

" _YOU KISSED HIM?!"_  Ron exclaimed.

Harry blinked down at the clear liquid bubbling away in the Potion cauldron and looked up. Several tables away, Hermione's eyes were glued to the potion she was stirring with Ron leaning close to her, his face just as tight as Hermione's was annoyed.

" _You kissed him?!_ " Ron repeated, oblivious to the audience he was attracting.

"Not that it's any of your business," Hermione snapped, cheeks bright pink. "But yes!"

"What the hell is going on?" Harry wondered.

"You don't know?" Pansy said, handing over her stirring rod to Daphne. She walked over to their table, pulling out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Draco snorted. "Don't tell me you actually read that garbage."

Harry's thoughts exactly. Pansy smiled, tucking one hand underneath her chin while the other hand flipped opened the page. "You know what they say, Dray? One can't refuse a good love story. Or should I say love triangle?"

Harry glanced over the page, inwardly groaning when he caught Skeeter's name, barely resisting an eye-roll as he read on. Skeeter was continuing with her ridiculous story of Harry and Hermione's secret romance, adding a third player into the mix. She featured a picture of Victor and Hermione dancing at the ball next to a picture of Hermione holding Harry back, cleverly cropping out Ron's head.

Oh dear god.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think Skeeter is trying to push you two together, Potter." Draco commented. Harry winced from the acid burning in his neutral tone.

"It's not like that." Harry protested.

Severus wasn't anymore amused by the story than Harry was. "Ten points from Gryffindor for classroom disturbance. Another ten will be taken if you two don't-"

A knock at the dungeon door interrupted them.

"Enter."

The class looked around as the door opened. Karkaoff came in, eyes drawn to him as he walked up towards Severus's desk, twisting his dark beard around with his finger, looking agitated.

"We need to talk." He looked so determined, so frantic that he was speaking in tongues, barely moving his lips.

" _I_  need to teach. I'll speak to you after my lesson, Karkaoff." Severus said.

Karkaoff wouldn't hear of it. "I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After my lesson." Severus snapped.

Harry and Draco traded a look. Draco casually reached over for the ingredients sitting near the edge of the table. Harry held up a measuring cup as if to see if he poured enough armadillo bile, sneaking a sidelong glance at the pair. Karkaoff looked worried. Severus looked angry.

Karkaoff hovered behind Severus's desk for the rest of the period. He was determined to keep Severus from slipping away. Keen to hear what Karkaoff had to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck behind the cauldron and mop up while the class noisily moved towards the door.

"What's so urgent?" Severus hissed.

" _This!_ " Peering around the edge of his cauldron, Karkaoff pulled up the left hand sleeve of his robe and showed something on his inner forearm. "See? See it? It's never been this clear, never since-"

"Put it away!" Severus snarled, black eyes sweeping the classroom.

"But you must have noticed-" Karkaoff began in an agitated voice.

"We will discuss this later!" he spat. "Potter! What are you doing here?"

Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back for not flinching at the harsh tone. "Cleaning up my armadillo bile, Professor," he answered innocently, straightening up and showing him the sodden rag in his hand.

Karkaoff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon, his face a mixture of rage and anxiety with fear rising through the cracks. Anger radiated from Severus, boiling like a cauldron ready to explode. Harry quickly shoved his books and ingredients into his bag and offered his uncle a weak nod as he zoomed over to the door.

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip, nerves built and twisted inside Harry like knots. Partially because his mind kept going back to the conversation between Severus and Karkaoff, which his uncle hadn't breathed a word about since, although he did threatened to have Harry's neck if he thought about eavesdropping on him again. Partially because of Moody who kept hovering, kept watching, dropping more hints about the third task and insisting he could help. And the way the sun seemed to be drawn to Draco, heightening the smooth, pale texture of his skin, blond hair shining white gold underneath the bright rays.

He almost looked like an angel, if angels had tight frowns.

"I don't see why the hell Black wanted to meet you here." Draco complained.

Sirius sent a message via owl this morning requesting for Harry to meet him near the outskirts of the village instead of the square or one of the shops. Draco's face slumped into a sulky frown when he read the letter over Harry's shoulder. Crumbling the note in his hand, Harry commented that Draco, of course, didn't need to follow. It was hard to contain his smirk while hearing footsteps and murmured curses trailing behind him.

"Maybe Sirius has a surprise or something."

Draco snorted. "Like what? Actually shopping for decent clothes?"

"Sure, junior, right after I have my way with that pretty head of hair of yours."

The look of pure horror on Draco's pale face was so daunting, laughter sprouted from Harry's lips. Sirius joined along, tossing his head back, laughing loudly with no shame.

"Oh, jump in the lake!" Draco snapped. "The both of you!"

"Bye Draco." Harry practically sang to his retreating back.

Draco snuck out his tongue at him, still peeved. He still warned Sirius he'd be joining Headless Nick in the no-head band if Harry wasn't back on time.

"A minute later, Black, and your severed head will be rolling on the ground before you can blink."

Sirius snorted. "He's definitely Cissy's boy. Right down to the teeth."

That he was. It was both a peeve and a quirk that made Harry's cheeks pink as he thought about it.

He stole a glance at Sirius. The last time he saw him was at the Malfoy manor for dinner. His hair was longer than last time, past his shoulders. His face scruffier, sporting new goatee. His jeans were more tattered than put-together and the picture on his red t-shirt looked like the skin of someone's head was melting off. "You look good, Sirius."

The words brought a smile to his face. "Thank you, thank you. I do try."

Rolling his eyes with a smile, Harry jerked his thumb towards the village. "Ready to go?"

"Um…" Uncertainty crept into his voice.

Harry lowered his thumb. "Or we could go somewhere else?"

Sirius looked like he was tempted to take him up on that offer, but he clenched his jaw and let out a slow breath. He shot Harry a weak smile. "I think it would be a crime to deprive them from this beautiful treasure." He waved a hand around his face.

Harry returned the smile and gestured for Sirius to lead the way.

People stared. Of course they stared. Harry was used to it, but this time he wasn't the one under the spotlight. Sirius held all the attention and it wasn't kind. Some stares were innocently curious, others baffled, most hostile and cold.

Sirius returned those looks with smirks. The place he picked was a small, practically buried underground and dimly-lit like a bar with only a few people inside. While they didn't have butterbeer, they did have some pretty good burgers served with a large platter of fries and thick,tall mugs of bubbly, sweet ale that trickled Harry's nose when he took in a sip. Sirius picked a private booth table in the back and placed a one-way hearing charm around them to ensure they wouldn't be overheard...

Harry painted loops of ketchup over his fries, making sure not to have too much or little. Once satisfied, he placed down the bottle and looked up at Sirius. "So how much do you know about Crouch?"

"You mean beside him being a tight-wad twit?" Sirius's face darkened. "He was the one who issued the arrest warrant against me. To be sent to Azkaban without a trial."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're kidding?"

"Wish I was kiddo, wish I was." Sirius picked up a piece of a handful of cashews from the bowl the sever dropped off at their table, crushing them in his fist. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry shook his head.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magically and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldermort supporter," he said, reading the look on Harry's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people were against the Dark Side….well, you wouldn't understand…you're too young."

"I'm not a child!" Harry protested.

The hardness in his tone snapped Sirius from his dark memories. He stared at Harry considerably. "No. No you're not."

The regret in his eyes made Harry wish he could take back his words. Despite the summer long visit, the firecalls, the letters, Sirius still felt like it wasn't enough to make up for lost six years.

Sirius picked up a fry from his plate and drowned it in ketchup.

"Voldermort is a big enough threat as he is now. Back then, he was much, much worse, thanks to his large  _fanbase_ ," He spat out the word like it was acid. "Couldn't tell who supported him, who worked for him, who was under his control. Another specialty of his. He could bend people at his will and make them do horrible things-unspeakable things. To themselves, to their friends, to their families. Whatever and however he saw fit. Every week, news came of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing. The Ministry was a mess. Practically killing themselves-and us-by trying the shield the public from the truth, trying to keep Muggles from learning about us. Meanwhile they were dying too-by the lot of them. Terror everywhere…panic…confusion." Sirius ran his hands through his hair, sighing deeply. "It was a mess."

Once more Harry wondered how his parents, his aunt and uncles managed to shield him and Draco from all that.

"Times like that brought out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning-I don't know, can't say. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering harsh measures against Voldermort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers-powers to kill instead of capture, for instance. I wasn't the only one who was sentenced without a trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. He became as ruthless and cruel as any Death-eater. He had supporters too, mind you-plenty of people thought he was doing the right thing. He was gaining so much popularity; he was a bound shoo-in as the new Minister of Magic." Sirius smirked grimly. "Until his own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters."

Harry could only imagine what a blow that must have been for Crouch-and how the press must have gobbled up that scandal like a Christmas ham. "Was he a Death Eater?"

"No idea," Sirius shrugged, abandoning his half-eaten burger to pick and crush more cashews in his hand. "It's hard to get news when you're on the run and living eighty percent of the time as a dog." He dropped the crushed nuts in his mouth, swallowing them whole. "What I do know is what Crouch wasn't easy on anyone supposedly on the Dark side. Didn't show mercy to anyone, not even his own son."

"He…he sent him to Azkaban?"

"First class all the way. Kid died a year after they brought him in. Mum followed him to the grave not too long after. The grief was too much for her. Wasted away like her son."

Sirius dropped away the cashew nuts and decided to finish his burger. "And so Old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he made it. One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic…next, his son dead, his wife dead, family name dishonored. To say that his popularity took a hit would be putting it mildly. Once the boy died, people started feeling a bit sympathetic towards the son and asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. Their theory: father never cared much for him. So Cornelius got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A long silence fell between them, Harry sliding his plate of ketchup-drenched fries over to Sirius, appetite long gone, Sirius picking at them.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards." Harry told Sirius minutes later.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of an obsession with him. Most likely the buggar thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

Harry stared down at the table, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

"The dreams. My name being added to the cup. Crouch's past. The missing potion ingredients. They're all connected somehow. I just…I just don't know how."

Sirius's frown deepened. He polished off the fries and washed it down with his drink, calling the waiter for a refill.

"Well, nothing like a good trip to the past to really sour an afternoon," He took a gulp of his drink. "Not exactly what I had planned for our godfather-kiddo trip."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, just a bit, which made Sirius smile back tentatively.

"So," he inquired. "Other than dragon-chasing, hostage-saving activities, what else has been going on in your life?"

Harry's mind drifted back to his dream of Draco appearing in the mirror, his heart's greatest desire. One of many dreams that followed after that, consisting of touching, kissing, so much kissing and more touches, peeling off layers of clothes, caresses and scratches on bare skin. These past few weeks of trying to sort everything out, trying to act as if things were normal, resisting the urge to touch, feeling as if the truth was stamped on his forehead for all to see.

His hands started to sweat again. Harry wiped them on his jeans. "There-there is something else."

"Oh."

"A question really."

Sirius stared at him, a curious brow arched questioningly.

"W-what…what…" It was like all the heat transferred from the room to his cheeks, burning them up. "What made you realize that Remus was the one?"

Ale spilled from the corners of Sirius's agape mouth, splashing onto his shirt. He blinked once, twice, seven times, trying and failing to keep his mouth shut.

"W-wo-wow," he muttered, crossing one leg, and then unwinding it. He slouched forward in his chair. "Okay. That definitely isn't what I expected."

Harry kept his eyes glued to the mug, the heat spreading from his burning cheeks to his face.

"Well," He looked up at Sirius, who was only beginning to recover from his shock. "Um…wow, I really didn't expect that type of question."

Harry might have been impressed he made Sirius so flustered if he wasn't dying from embarrassment.

"Me and Remus, kiddo, we…we go back. Long back. Us and your dad." A distant, almost-dazed look came over his eyes. "Can hardly remember a time when they weren't in my life. Your dad was my best friend in the world. My twin. My brother in every way except in blood. Moony, though, was something else, something different. He was my other half, my better half. On the surface, it didn't make much sense. We couldn't have been any more different but somehow we just…clicked. I always knew when his head was too far off and how to pull him back to Earth. He knew how to distract me when the daily howler from dear old mum came in. We've seen each other at our worst, our lowest, and always built each other back up. Despite everything, fights and arguments and annoyances, he always stayed by my side and me his."

Those words stuck something in Harry, something deep. "What made you then realize…or decide…?"

Sirius's cheeks puffed out as he took in a slow, deep breath. "Realization started creeping in fifth year. Always, in the back of my mind, I knew that what I had with Remus was different, much different than the relationship I had with your dad or anyone else. Still, I chose not to say anything. After all, it wasn't anyone's business but our own and as far as I know, labels were useless, annoying buggars that only complicated things. Of course that didn't stop me from wanting to cut off the tongue of some giggly Hufflepuff who babbled on and on about getting a sweet snog from Remus under the mistletoe. I looked at him. His whole face was bright red and he didn't look at any of us, but I knew. And it royally pissed me off, to the point that I wanted to rip off that girl's head and use it to clobber him. Then I got even more pissed when I realized I had no reason, no right to be feeling that way, to feel so jealous and hurt. Remus wanted an answer for cold-shoulder treatment but I couldn't give him one."

One would have to be a complete idiot not to pick up similarities between what happened to them and what happened between himself and Draco.

"Realization finally hit home sixth year, all because of me and my lack of sense." Sirius let out a small sound that sounded like a laugh, but it was too dry, too brittle. Almost strangled. "Sixth year…I made a big mistake, a really terrible mistake, that nearly cost someone their life and exposed Remus. I only meant it as a joke, a harmless prank. But then everything went to shite. When Remus found out what we did, what I did, he…he...furious cannot even begin to describe how he looked. He charged up to me, knocked down with a punch to my face, said right there, 'You're dead to me.'" Sirius swallowed. "My father used every insult in the book against me; my mother never wasted an opportunity to remind me how worthless I was. But words never hurt me that much as Remus's did."

" _Just the same as every other kiss I received: completely, utterly irrelevant."_

"Yea," Harry murmured. "I know the feeling."

"I thought things would pass. We've been through some sloppy messes but we always came back together. Then he disappeared. For weeks. No one had any idea where he went off to. Your dad checked the Shrieking Shack but he wasn't there. Ratbrain thought he might have gone off to his parents' house but Moony hadn't stepped a foot inside since they died. I was going out of my mind. My head couldn't stop picturing horrible scenarios. Finally, he came back, smiling as if everything was alright, brushing off our questions, pointedly ignoring me. Everyone else seemed satisfied but I wasn't. I knew Remus like the back of my hand. I couldn't name it, couldn't explain it, but I knew something was off. That night I followed him. I found him at the Astronomy tower, standing close by the ledge, one foot already out."

Harry's jaw dropped so abruptly, he was surprised he didn't hear a clatter from the floor. Remus-Moony-"You mean...he-"

"You're gonna have to ask him that yourself, kiddo. I can only tell you my side. I don't know how, hell I barely remember moving-that's how shocked I was-but the next thing I knew I was on the other side of the room, pulling him back. He fought me all the way. He was like a wild cat or something, scratching me, hitting me. I learned the hard way that a scrawny little thing could pack a mean punch. Still, face-and parts-bruised and bloody, I held onto him for dear life. He screamed. Kept saying why not, give me a damn reason. I told him that kid wasn't hurt. He said the next one most likely won't be as lucky. I told him he wasn't thinking clearly, that he was being stupid. He said his mind never felt clearer. I told him that he would be missed. He said no one misses a monster. Then something in me just snapped. I screamed, ' _I FUCKING WOULD MISS YOU!_   _I LOVE YOU, YOU GREAT THUMPING, BROODING IDIOT!_ '"

Harry blinked, and then did so again. Slowly.

"I know, I know. Not the most romantic gesture, definitely not in the right place. But once the words were out, they were out. I couldn't stop. I kept saying it over and over again, that I loved him, until my screaming lowered to whispers. Remus's shaking eventually stopped. I held onto him tight, saying that I loved him till my voice gave out. We stayed together in that tower the rest of the night, holding onto like we were about to be separated. Years later…here we are."

Harry smiled softly.

"I do have two regrets though." Harry's smile fell. "The first is what I done. My stupid idea of a prank that started all this in the first place. Second is the fact it took me forever to realize what exactly Moony meant to me, but longer for me to actually have the guts to say what I feel."

The waiter came back to refill their empty mugs. He replaced their plates with a basket full of cherry scones. Harry wolfed down one scone, then another before Sirius spoke again.

"Do I happen to know this person?"

Harry nearly choked on the next bite, swallowing too soon without chewing thoroughly.

"Is it a she?"

Still trying to clear his clogged windpipe, Harry shook his head.

A heartbeat later and, "A he?"

Harry bit his bottom lip and looked up. There was no judgment or skepticism in Sirius's eyes. Only curiosity. His reply was a quick jerk of the head.

"Do I know this person?"

Well, he definitely loved antagonizing him. Harry gave another quick nod.

Sirius, for once, matched his namesake. Harry couldn't remember him a time he looked so solemn, so somber. It was like a war was unfolding in his head and he was caught between the two sides, unsure which side he wanted to fight for.

Finally, minutes later, the sides ceased fire and Sirius looked up at him. He leaned across the table to ruffle his hair, a hint of smile on his face that dissolved when he pulled his hand. "Then I want you to promise me two things, Harry."

He listened carefully.

"Don't be like me and wait till shite hits the fan before you finally have the guts to say what you feel. There may be a chance it may be too late before you find the courage."

Harry swallowed down a hard lump forming in his throat.

"And be careful."

What other reaction could Harry give than another nod? He did so and toyed with his knife.

"Now I have a question for you." Sirius waited till Harry looked up again. "You sure? About the way you feel?"

"Yeah," Despite everything he had been told, despite the heaviness of Sirius's story, a smile took hold of Harry's mouth, curving it into a soft smile. "Yeah, I do. I think-I think I always felt this way. It just took forever to finally click."

"Well then," Sirius said. "I give you my blessing. And I will give the person, whoever he may be, whatever pale color hair he may have, a lovely pike for his severed head should he break your heart."

Harry gawked. Sirius smirked. Then the two laughed so hard, tears streamed down their faces.

* * *

Weeks later, the conversation was still on Harry's mind as he walked back to his dorm after another late homework and tournament task-prep session at the library. It was the only bright side given everything else. Days were whining down, the third task approaching so close. Hermione was worried enough for him, Theo alongside her.

If that wasn't enough, he had other worries. Such as a distressed Crouch who appeared out of the blue one moment, demanding to see Dumbledore, and then disappearing by the time Harry came back with a professor, an unconsciousness Victor lying at the same spot where they found Crouch with no memory as to what happened. Severus was growing more irritated, more irate from the potion ingredients that continued to disappear in his office. Last class, he held up a bottle of Veritaserum and threatened to slip in any one of their drinks if anymore items turned up missing to find the culprit. Worse of all, Harry was starting to have visions of Voldermort again, hissing orders, inflicting pain with a flick of his wrist, more fallen bodies slumped around his throne meant to feed his pet snake.

Harry looked into newspapers to see if there was something, any more sightings of the dark mark, any trouble at Azkaban. Still nothing, not a peek. He couldn't shake off the feeling though that something was wrong, incredibly wrong. Couldn't shake off the feeling that Pettigrew had to be involved. The minion tending to Voldertmort, often getting barked at, getting struck, bore a strong resemblance to him.

Maybe not in height since his face was usually blurred out in the visions, but the height was similar, the mannerisms the same. And yet Harry hadn't heard anything. No break-ins at Azkaban, no attempts of escape. Nothing.

"I can tell you've been in the library. The grimace says it all."

Harry paused mid-step and looked over his shoulder. Moody emerged from the corner, leaning against his cane. "Sir."

"Dumbledore wants you in his office."

"Oh," From the hardness of the man's face, Harry had a good feeling he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of postponing the meeting. "Alright."

Moody jerked his head towards the opposite end of the hall. Harry had no other choice but to follow.

The two walked in silence. Every now and then, Harry glanced over at Moody, his jaw strung tight, bewildered by the glassy eye that spun around and around. Occasionally, Moody would meet those glances with careful ones of his own.

"Must say, Potter," he grunted minutes later. "I'm surprised I actually got a hold of you. You're a hard man to find."

Harry gave a one-shoulder shrug. "A lot of homework. And preparing for the tournament."

"And late-night wandering." Moody injected, looking right at him.

Unease tightened around the muscles of his stomach. Harry swallowed but made sure the rest of his composure was normal and steady. "Just got lost trying to find a quicker way back to my room."

"Strange how that way lead you to Snape's office, right in the middle of our conversation." Harry kept silent. Another thorough glance and Moody continued, "Even stranger that no one could see you, no one who doesn't have an modified eye that is." His good eye narrowed suspiciously. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Just the same way we do everything else: with magic." Moody's mouth formed into a displeased frown.

"I don't seem to recall any spell that can act as a map and make someone invisible."

Just as Harry didn't seem to recall a teacher being so interested in his magical methods. "The wonders you can find in a library."

Moody grunted. Harry thought that was the end of that, until, "Whatever you're doing seems to be working. You won the first task, saved two hostages in the second one. Judges might as well save everyone the trouble and give you the trophy already."

Harry tried chuckling to ease the tension coiling in his stomach, but the sound was weak and brittle to his own ears. "Not too sure about that."

"I see you got your mother's humility, Potter. And your father's bravery. Still can't understand how you were sorted into the snake pit."

Harry could barely resist rolling his eyes. Like he hadn't heard that one before.

"Ever consider following in your dad's footsteps? Becoming an Auror?"

"Um…no, sir." Funny how the thought didn't cross his mind till now. "Can't say that I have."

"I think you'd make a fine one."

Harry hummed in reply. He was never more grateful to see Dumbledore's office doors, feeling Moody's eyes pinned on him as he delivered the password to the portrait and entered the room.

One step into the office and it was like tension slipped off Harry's shoulders like a discarded cloak. Something about the room eased his mind a bit, comforted by the heavy scent of lemon drops and tea. Dumbledore wasn't inside but everything else was accounted for. His pet bird, Fawkes, sleeping on his post. The sorting hat and the sword of Godric Gryffindor Harry used to kill the basilisk second year posted on the very top of one of the many bookshelves overflowing with books.

Across from the fireplace, housing a large fire, sitting in front of the other bookshelf was a shallow stone basin with odd carvings around the edges; runes and symbols Harry didn't recognize. Silver light glowed from the basin's contents. Harry walked over to it. It was hard to tell whether it was liquid or gas. Whatever it was, it was bright, whitish-silver, like melted starlight moving ceaselessly in the pool. The surface of it ruffled like water beneath wind, and then like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. Like light-made liquid or wind-made solid.

Harry bent closer, his head inside the basin. The silvery stuff became transparent; it looked like glass. He saw a room inside it, dark and filled with people seated on benches, faces drawn and tight, pointing at one thing, then another.

The tip of his nose touched the strange substance.

Dumbledore's office gave a strong lurch-Harry was thrown and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin.

But his head didn't hit the stone bottom. He was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool-

_And suddenly Harry found himself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. He looked up at the high stone ceiling, seeing nothing but dark, solid stone._

_Breathing hard and fast, Harry looked around him. Not one of the witches or wizards in the room (and there were at least two hundred of them) looked at him. Not one of them seemed to have noticed that a fourteen-year old boy had just dropped from the ceiling into their midst. Harry turned to the wizard next to him on the bench and uttered a loud cry of surprise that reverberated around the silent room._

_He was sitting right next to Dumbledore._

" _Professor!" Harry said in a kind of strangled whisper. "I'm sorry-I didn't mean to-I was just looking at the basin in your cabinet-I-where are we?"_

_But Dumbledore didn't move or speak. He ignored Harry completely. Like every other wizard on the benches, he was staring into the far corner of the room, where there was a door._

_Harry gazed, nonplussed, at Dumbledore, then around at the silently watchful crowd, then back at Dumbledore. And then it dawned on him…_

_Once before, Harry had found himself somewhere that nobody could have guessed. That time, he had fallen through a page in an enchanted diary, right into somebody else's memory…and unless he was very much mistaken, something of the sort was happening again…_

_Harry raised his hand, hesitated, and then waved it energetically in front of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore didn't blink, look around, or moved at all. Dumbledore wouldn't ignore him like that. He was definitely inside a memory. Not too long though, given the fact the Dumbledore sitting next to him now was silver-haired, just like the present-day Dumbledore. But what was this place? What were all these wizards waiting for?_

_Harry looked around more carefully. The room, as he had suspected when observing it from above, was almost certainly underground-more of a dungeon than a room. There was a bleak and forbidding air about the place; no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all. Just these serried rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, all positioned so that they had a clear view of that chair with the chains on its arms._

_Before Harry could reach any conclusions about the place they were in, he heard footsteps. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three people entered-or at least one man, flanked by two dementors._

_Harry's insides went cold. The dementors-tall, hooded creatures whose faces were concealed-were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint not that Harry could blame him…he knew the dementors couldn't touch him inside a memory, but he remembered their power too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them._

_Harry looked down at the man sitting the chair, shocked to find that it was Karkaoff of all people._

_Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaoff looked much younger; his hair and goatee were black. He wasn't dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. Even as Harry watched, the chains on the arms of the chairs glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaoff's arms, binding him there._

" _Igor Karkaoff," said a curt voice to Harry's left. Harry looked around and saw Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch's hair was dark, his face much less lined, he looked fit and alert. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You claim to have some important information for us."_

_Karkaoff straightened himself up as best he could, tightly bound to the chair._

" _I have, sir," he said, and although his voice was very scared, Harry could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I-I know that the Ministry is trying to-to round up the last of the Dark Lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can…"_

_There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaoff with interest, others with pronounced mistrust. Then Harry heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore's other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, "Filth."_

_Moody seated beside the headmaster, years younger, without his magical eye but his face still hard, marked with fainted scars. Both looked down at Karkaoff, eyes narrowed in intense dislike._

" _Crouch is going to let him out," Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the dementors."_

_Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose._

" _Ah. I was forgetting….you don't like the dementors, do you, Albus?" said Moody with a sardonic smile._

" _No," Dumbledore answered back calmly. 'I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."_

" _But for filth like this…" Moody said softly._

" _You say you have names for us, Karkaoff," Crouch leaned forward in his chair, distrust in his eyes. "Let us hear them then."_

" _You must understand," said Karkaoff hurriedly. "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy…He preferred that we-I mean to say, his supporters-and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them-"_

" _Get on with it," sneered Moody._

" _-we never knew the names of every one of our followers-He alone knew exactly who we all were-"_

" _Which was a wise move, wasn't it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaoff, from turning all of them in," muttered Moody._

" _Yet you say you have_ some _names for us?" Crouch questioned._

" _I-I do," Karkaoff insisted. "And these are important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounced him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely-"_

" _The names!" Crouch demanded._

_Karkaoff drew in a deep breath. "There was Antonin Dolohov," he said. "I-I saw him torture countless Muggles-and-and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."_

" _And helped him do it," Moody murmured._

" _We have already apprehended Dolohov," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after yourself."_

" _Indeed?" Karkaoff's eyes widened in shock he barely tried to conceal. "I-I am delighted to hear it!"_

_But he didn't look it. Harry could tell this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names turned out to be worthless._

" _Any others?" said Crouch coldly._

" _Why, yes…there was Rosier, Evan Rosier."_

" _Rosier is dead," Crouch stated. "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."_

" _Took a bit of me with him, though," whispered Moody to Harry's right. Harry looked around at him once more, and saw him pointing to the large chunk of his nose._

" _No-no more than Rosier deserved!" Karkaoff said, a real note of panic in his voice now. Harry could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaoff's eyes darted towards the door in the corner, behind where the dementors stood still, waiting._

" _Any more?" Crouch asked._

" _Yes!" Desperation slithered into his tone. "There was Travers-he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber-he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"_

_He could tell that this time Karkaoff had struck gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring together._

" _Rookwood?" Crouch repeated, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"_

" _The very same," Karkaoff said eagerly. "I believe he used a rework of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect-"_

" _But Travers and Muclciber we have," said Crouch. "Very well, Karkaoff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide-"_

" _Not yet!" cried Karkaoff, looking quite desperate. "Wait, I have more!"_

_Harry could see him sweating in the torchlight, his white skin contrasting strongly with the lack of his hair and beard._

" _Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!"_

_Chaos descended around the room, murmurs heightening to yells and heated protests, Moody loudly adding his own input. Crouch trying to restore the order with thunderous pounds of his gavel. In the midst of all that chaos was Harry who took in a sharp, very sharp breath._

_A sharp breath that felt like a massive pound of lead._

_Lead that dropped on his heart._

_Dropped to his stomach._

_Plunging them all the way down to the depths of abyss, falling with a hard_ clack.

_Causing him to let out that same lead-stiffen breath that was better suited for a fatally-wounded animal barely holding onto life than a fourteen year old boy._

No. _Harry's head slowly moved back and forth like a pendulum rusted from years of unused, brought out for another swing. No, no, no. No, it couldn't be true. It wasn't true. Karkaoff was lying; he was just trying to save his arse-_

" _Snape has been cleared by this council," said Crouch disdainfully, his voice a near scream over the noise in the noise. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."_

_Vouched. Dumbledore. Snape, Severus. Death Eater. The words spun around and around in Harry's head like a mad carousal._

" _No!" Karkaoff shouted, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"_

_Acid, vicious and ice-cold, laced with salt tore through Harry's insides._

_Dumbledore had gotten to his feet._

" _I have given evidence on his matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."_

_Then why did it feel as if a silent bomb went off inside Harry, blowing everything into a numbing, freezing oblivion? Why was a ringing still going through his ear, barely heard over the roar of blood rushing to his head?_

_He turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody, who wore a look of deep skepticism behind Dumbledore's back._

" _Very well, Karkaoff," Crouch said coldly. "you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime."_

_Crouch's voice faded. Harry looked around. The dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke, everything fading away. He could only see his own body-all else was swirling darkness…_

_And then, the dungeon returned. Harry was sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to the left side of Crouch. The atmosphere seemed quite different; relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Harry noticed a witch halfway up the row of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. Rita Skeeter, years younger and still so vile. Harry looked around. Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter…Harry understood. It was a different memory, a different day….a different trial._

_The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room._

_A Ludo Bagman clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. And looked nervous, almost terrified, as he sat down in the chained chair but it didn't bind him as it had with Karkaoff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and managed a small smile._

" _Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," Crouch announced. "We have heard evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?"_

_Harry couldn't believe his ears._ Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater!

" _Only," said Bagman, smiling awkwardly. "well-I know I've been a bit of an idiot-"_

_One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. Crouch didn't appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of utmost severity and dislike._

" _You ever spoke a truer word, boy," someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Harry. He looked around and saw Moody sitting there again. "If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain…"_

" _Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," said Crouch. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than-"_

_An angry outcry burst from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their hands, and even their fists, at Crouch._

" _But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's….never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on…once my Quidditch days are over, you..I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"_

_There were titters from the crowd._

" _It will be put to the vote," said Crouch coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands…those in favor of imprisonment…"_

_Harry looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up._

" _Yes?" Crouch barked._

" _We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday," the witch said breathlessly._

_Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming._

" _Despicable," Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed…The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day for the Ministry…"_

_And the dungeon dissolved again. When it had returned, Harry looked around. He and Dumbledore were still sitting beside Crouch, but the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands._

_Harry looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple._

" _Bring them in," he said, and his voice echoed through the silence dungeon._

_The door in the corner opened yet again. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. Harry saw the people in the crowd turn up look up at Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another._

_The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood up on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch. A thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd. A frighteningly-beautiful woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne. And a boy in his late teens, who looking nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy-little witch beside Crouch began to rock back and forth in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief._

_Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, pure hatred carved onto his face._

" _You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he stated. "so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous-"_

" _Father," said the boy with straw-colored hair. "Father…please…"_

" _that we have rarely heard the likes of it within this court," said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror-Frank Longbottom-and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have the knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-"_

" _Father, I didn't!" shrieked the boy in the chains below. "I didn't, I swear it, Father don't send me back to the dementors-"_

" _You are further accused," bellowed Crouch. "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury-"_

" _Mother!" screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking back and forth. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"_

" _I now ask the jury," shouted Crouch. "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"_

_In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph. The boy began to scream._

" _No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"_

_The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys' three companions rose quietly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"_

_But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle._

" _I'm your son!" he screamed up at Crouch. "I'm your son!"_

" _You are no son of mine!" bellowed Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!"_

_The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed._

" _Take them away!" Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"_

" _Father! Father! I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"_

"I think, Harry, it is time to return to my office," said a quiet voice in Harry's ear.

_Harry started. He looked around. Then he looked on his other side._

_There was Albus Dumbledore sitting on his right, watching Crouch's son being dragged away by the dementors-and there was an Albus Dumbledore on his left, looking right at him._

"Come," said the Dumbledore on his left, and he put his hand under Harry's elbow. Harry felt himself rising into the air, the dungeon dissolving around him. For a moment, all was blackness, and the he felt as though he had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing on his feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of him, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside him.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "I know I shouldn't've-I didn't mean-"

"It's quite alright, my boy. I understand." Dumbledore said. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it up the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry to sit down opposite him.

Harry did so, staring at the stone basin. The contents had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath his gaze.

"I'm sure you are familiar with a Pensieve." said Dumbledore.

Harry was more so used to seeing them from the pages of books Severus sent him. He knew Uncle Lucius had one at the manor, kept under heavy lock and key.

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind. At those times," Dumbledore nodded towards the basin. "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's lecture. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"You mean…that's stuff your _thoughts_?" Harry stared at the swirling white substance.

"Thoughts, memories."

Harry's blood ran cold. He gripped onto the arm rests so tightly, he felt the bones stretching out the skin of his knuckles.

Dumbledore examined his face. "You look pale, my boy. Think you could use some tea." He snapped his fingers and a tray of hot tea and tiny handless mugs and a plate of scones whirled over to them.

Harry bit into the scone, the pastry sawdust in his mouth. "So what I saw...what I heard…it was real?"

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, watching him closely. "What did you see?"

"Crouch and his son." The boy's desperate pleas still echoed in Harry's head. "Those people who were with him…Bagman…Karkaoff and what he…"

Dumbledore inclined for him to go on with a soft nod of his head.

"What Crouch said…about what his son and those people did to Neville's parents? Was that actually true?"

Dumbledore let out a sigh that sounded like it came from deep within. "It is absolutely extraordinary and tragic how two boys, both born at the end of July, suffer similar heartbreak early on in life. One whose parents lost their lives, the other whose parents lost their minds."

Poor Neville. Harry's heart went out to his friend. He knew his parents were gone, which was why he lived with his less-than-warm grandmother, but Harry thought gone as in dead, like his own were. But knowing what happened to them, reading about the effects the Curse could have, especially if inflicted repeatedly for hours at time, death would have been a mercy.

How long ago did that happen? Crouch said they captured Neville's father because they believed he had information that could help bring back their master. Did it happen shortly after his parents died? Months later? A year?

Questioned burnt at Harry's tongue, but one look at Dumbledore's face told him that he wouldn't say much on the subject of Neville's parents. It wouldn't have been right anyway. That was between Neville and his family. Still, Harry had other questions, one that related back to the first trial he witnessed, where the startling information, Karkaoff's words, resurfaced and lashed like a slap against his face.

"Karkaoff-he-he was trying to make a deal with Crouch. Gave up the names of Death Eaters he knew. In-including Severus."

Dumbledore blinked once but didn't move.

"He…he was lying, right, sir? He had to be. There's no-no way Severus would ever do that. He-he…"

He waited anxiously for Dumbledore to cast his fears with a smile, to agree that Karkaoff was a liar, of course he was a liar, to say that it wasn't true.

But Dumbledore simply stared back at him; eyes clear as a cloudless sky.

From the faint consciousness of his mind that wasn't spiraling into a void, Harry picked up the sound of shattered porcelain. He could feel the spilled tea seeping into his shoes. But most of his attention was focused on the snap he felt break inside him like a bone, a snap that went on and on, bending this way and that, the cracked fragments dropping all the way down to the pit of his stomach.


	39. All That Glitters Not Always Gold (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact, I actually created this story almost 4 years ago on ffnet and just recently decided to share it over here as well, thanks to my dear friends SensiblyTainted and mykkila09 and SasuNarufan13. So thank them for convincing me-and also check out their drarry stories. They're amazing
> 
> Over the years, various edits and fanart have been done and thought I'd share them. Most were done by the talented friend, Sammie, aka dreamydrarry over on tumblr (follow her). If interested, I'll let the links below

He ended up staying at Dumbledore's office longer than he expected, much longer. Close to four hours. Harry only remembered bits and pieces of the meeting, words spilling from his mouth while his mind plunged into a numbing, chilling oblivion.

He told Dumbledore about his dreams, visions of Voldemort that came on a few days ago, along with the one he had the morning of the World Quidditch Tournament, adding in as many details as he could remember.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, either from disappointment that Harry waited till now to tell him or from suspicion. He analyzed the events closely, confirming Harry's suspicions that the visions were in fact connected to his entrance into Trizwizard Tournament.

Harry's mind was half-there. It was like his body was on autopilot, drinking cup after cup of lemon tea, inhaling stone after stone, adding in comments and questions. His mind, on the other hand, was miles, miles away. Still back at the courtroom at Karkaoff's trial, his words spinning around and around like a song on replay.

" _I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"_

No matter how hard he tried to push those words away, how hard he tried to silence them, the song played on, growing louder and louder till it was a booming mantra in his head.

Severus Snape. His uncle, the man who had always watched over him, who pulled him away from his dead mother's hand and took him from that empty house, who raised him, was actually connected to Voldemort. Was a loyal follower to him, actually served him. The same man who's only sole desire was to make the world a mass of pain and destruction, who killed his parents without a second thought, who wanted to see him dead.

Close to ten cups of tea and Harry's body felt like ice coated his insides.

Towards the end of the meeting, he asked in a voice so low he could barely hear it himself "Sir…what Karkaoff said…about Severus. He said Sev- _Snape_  was still loyal to Voldemort. Then you stood up and said he was a spy, your spy."

Dumbledore stared back at him with patient, unflinching eyes.

"What made you think he really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?"

Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

Harry knew that the interview was over. Dumbledore didn't look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry it was time to go. He stood up, and so did Dumbledore.

"Harry, I understand how confusing this must be for you. Overwhelming even. However, keep in mind that the truth is a beautiful, terrible thing that should be treated with upmost caution. One that carries many layers." He looked up, and the headmaster offered him a small smile. "Hardly anything is as it seems, my boy."

_Nothing is as it seems._  Those were almost the exact same words Sirius said, at the time a hunted fugitive with so much evidence pinning him to terrible crimes, pleading with Harry to believe him. That it wasn't all what it seemed.

Harry held onto his notion like his life depended on it. Throat dry, he jerked his head in a nod and walked over to the door.

"And Harry?"

He looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from the beneath by its silvery spots of basin, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, then said, "Good luck with the third task."

Harry left the office without saying another word, too tired to even offer a nod. He was so tired, as if all the lost sleep that were traded in for studying and practicing were finally catching up with him, like bulldozers plowing into him. He grabbed onto the nearest wall to keep himself steady.

He wanted sleep. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to his room, crawl under the covers, and sleep for the rest of the month. For the rest of the year.

His brain and his body, though, weren't on the same page. Brain begged sleep. Body moved, walking down to the dungeons but not to the Slytherin dormitories, instead taking a sharp left, moving down the hall to a room where Salazar Slytherin was posted on the door, watching him with narrowed, curious eyes.

"Half-blood prince." Harry mumbled.

The portrait swung open without another word and he walked in quietly. Harry found his uncle hunched over his desk, a stack of Potion essays by both sides. He was moving an ink-splattered essay over to the pile on the left when he heard footsteps. A snarl tipped through his clenched teeth, almost as if he expected it to be an house-elf pestering him or perhaps Karkaoff. Then the snarl morphed into a frown, the closest thing to a confused expression, as he took in the look on Harry's face.

Harry remembered the first time he ever saw Severus. Greasy, long black hair, a large hooked nose that looked it suffered a hard blow and never recovered, and an expression on his face, glinting in his black eyes, that promised a long and painful death if you as much breathed near his presence. The only time those eyes altered when they looked at his mum, changing from murderous to mournful, filled with so much pain that Harry was intrigued to learn more about it. Learn more about why he looked so sad, learn more about him. It took Harry nearly forever to push through those deadly eyes and the stone-cold exterior to understand that sadness, to understand him.

Looking at him now, Harry felt like he was starting over again, terrified from those unflinching black eyes.

"Harry."

He attempted to swallow down the lump that clogged his throat, burning away. His gaze dropped down to Severus's left sleeve. He didn't realize till now that he never saw that arm unclothed.

"Harry."

He tried swallowing down that lump again, only able to sink it down an inch before it grew, nearly blocking his airflow. "If I push up your sleeve, will I see it?"

A long, hard heartbeat later and then-"See what?"

Harry's eyes snapped back to Severus's that were hard and piercing. "See the same mark that's making Karkaoff so scared."

A glint went through those eyes as they narrowed into slits, a frown settling onto his face.

Harry took a step forward. He may be a Slytherin, his mind cunning and sharp, but he had the heart of a Gryffindor and Gryffindor never wasted time with subtly. "The Dark Mark?"

Severus stayed still in his chair, a near flawless statue, not blinking, not moving. That alone gave Harry a faint, desperate hope that this was all just a horrible dream unfolding in his head. That nothing he saw today, nothing he heard was real. Until Severus flinched, breaking his gaze, grasping onto his left arm that was shaking on the desk, almost as if he were burnt.

Seeing that gesture sparked a memory in Harry's head. Severus grasping onto his left wrist when Moody was egging him on, saying how certain leopards don't change their spots.

Or break ties to their master.

Harry took a step back, then another, and another until he was on the other side of the room, practically barricaded against the door. Severus slowly rose from his chair, and Harry took another step back.

"Harry-"

Realization jabbed into him like a poisoned dagger, the venom spreading through his veins. "That's how you knew."

"I-"

"Halloween night," Harry croaked. "You always said…y-you told me that a gut feeling is what brought you over to my house. A feeling that let you knew something horrible had happened. But you already knew something horrible happened because you knew of Voldemort's plans. You were in on them. You knew he was after my parents, after me. You knew that he wanted to see us all dead.  _You knew!_ "

Severus glared back at the floor as if he were watching his past self relive every stupid mistake he ever made, some that were horrible, some unfortunate, some that were just downright unforgivable.

" _Why?!_ " It was like a monster was crawling inside Harry's body, gripping onto his throat, stinging his eyes. A monster feeding off his pain, the anguish, the anger running inside him, growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Harry-"

"Did you honestly despise Muggles that much? Do you think Muggle-borns are ants that should be stomped on?  _Did you hate my dad that much, that you wanted him dead?!_ "

Severus closed his eyes, a tight scowl slashing across his face. He gripped onto the forearm of his chair so tightly; Harry could hear the wood cracking from where he stood.

His grip, however, wasn't as tight as Harry's fists were, clenched to his sides. The hold on that chair nowhere near as strong as the thick, heavy Potions textbook that hurled from the high bookshelf from the sharp intake of Harry's breath over to where Severus stood, narrowing missing his head by an inch, slamming so hard against the wall a deep dent was created. The spine cracked from the impact, pages and loose binding fluttering out as it landed on the floor.

If Severus was surprised, he didn't show it. He released his hand from the squeezed armrest and rested it by his side, staring at Harry.

His mind was screaming at him to run, to draw his wand. But Harry forced himself to remain still and listen for his own sake, for his parents' sake, fighting against the eye-stinging, throat-clenching monster seething underneath his skin. He forced himself to focus not only on Karkaoff's words, but on Dumbledore's from the memory, speaking in Severus's defense and saying he was his spy. What present-Dumbledore said about the truth carrying many layers and not always being clear-cut as it appeared. How Sirius told Harry the exact same thing when he was on the run, accused of a horrible crime, begging him to learn more than one side of the story.

"One of the many things I greatly argued about with your mother, along with Narcissa, is my preference of not holding back," Severus said. "There are certain things they felt were better saved for later or to be left in the dark altogether. They believe keeping the truth would protect you two. I disagreed. I still do." His black eyes glinted. "No matter how painful the truth may be, how hard it may be to hear it, it must be heard. Shielding or sugarcoating it does nothing except make the truth hurt that much more when it's known. I never shielded you or Draco away from it. And this is one truth…that will be hard to hear. Hard to understand, but you need to know it."

Harry unclenched his fists when he felt his muscles aching, magic buzzing through his fingertips, building up inside him like lightening brewing inside a dark cloud. "Then tell me."

Severus took one look at him and shook his head. "Not yet, not when you already have too much to deal with. But I do intend to tell you the truth-the whole truth."

"When?"

"Soon." Not a feeble word but a promise.

Too many questions were building inside Harry, clawing up his throat, wanting to be voiced out. Why did Severus serve Voldemort in the first place? What made the Dark side so appealing to him? What made him switch sides? How long ago did he make the switch? Harry bit his lip hard to keep the questions in and keep himself under control. He needed answers, but at the moment he needed sleep even more. He needed to get away from here. Still, there was one question he needed to ask. One he needed to know.

"Who are you loyal to, Severus? Really?"

Just like he always had, Severus didn't hold back. "The side I know will win."

He stared at Harry intently, letting his words sink in.

On shaky knees, Harry turned over to the door, but before he could leave, Severus called his name.

"I always told you and Draco to always follow your instincts. I never meant it as a meaningless sentiment, but as a warning. One I learnt the hard way. The one time I chose not to follow my instincts, I made a choice, a terrible choice. By the time I realized the mistake I made, it was too late." Harry heard a step behind him but didn't turn around. "I tried to make up for that mistake by doing what's right. But in the end, it wasn't enough. I ended up losing someone I cared about,"

Mum. If there was one person Severus cared about more anything else, it was her. Harry remembered the way he used to look at her, so much tenderness wrapped around so much regret in his eyes. The way Severus howled-actually howled- like a wild animal when he saw her motionless body on the ground, pale and cold, covered in so much blood.

"And almost lost another that I care about."

He could feel those black eyes focused on the back on his head, but Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think, so he slipped out the door without saying another word.

Severus watched him leave, doing nothing to stop him, knowing that what the boy needed right now was space; space to deal with the revelation he had just suffered. When the door closed firmly behind Harry, for the first time in a long time, seven years too long, Severus lost a bit of his composure.

He grabbed an inkwell from his desk and threw it at the wall, watching impassively as it shattered, globs of black painting the wall, dripping onto the floor.

Harry had no idea how he made it back to his room. He blindly speeded over to the Slytherin dorms, feeling the suffocating monster weighting down on his body like an elephant, mounted right on his chest, slowly but surely crushing him into a pulp. He remembered seeing Draco lounging in the common room with Blaise, the two of them startled by the look on his face that must have been quite a sight. He could make the sounds of Draco casting charms, maybe silencing or locking spells on the door. He could hear his name being called over and over again.

But everything was out of focus; everything was dull and cold. The monster taking over his body, squeezing his chest changed into an iced mastodon, digging Harry into the ground with its heavy feet.

"Harry! Harry! Talk to me!"

It was so amazing how numb a body could become when the heart began to crash. How slow the crushing process was itself, like an ice-cold fist was holding the organ, squeezing inch by inch, deeply burying their sharp nails into it, making sure every throbbing ache was felt, every squeeze was accounted for.

" _Godfuckingdamnit!_  Potter, talk to me! Are you alright? Are you okay? Say something, damn it! Look at me!"

What was he even looking at? It looked like it was their fireplace, but Harry couldn't tell. The orange flames from the fire were disoriented from the heavy sheer filling his eyes.

He felt hands on his face, titling back his head, running all over his cheeks. Then he felt those same hands grasping onto his shoulders and holding onto him tight, telling him he wouldn't go into the darkness alone, asking over and over if he was alright.

It was a silly question really. Of course, he was alright. He was fine. He was perfectly fine. He was just….fi…

Harry couldn't even finish the thought before his whole world dissolved in a flood of searing-hot tears.

~…~

Draco's rhythm didn't falter once as he rocked him back and forth in his arms, almost as if Harry was a child in his care. He held onto him tightly as his crying broke into hard weeping, not even caring that his robes was at the mercy of Harry's tears and snot. He then stroked Harry's hair gently when his weeping reduced to silent tears that ran down his cheeks.

It was then, in a quiet, cracked voice that was rusty from all his crying, Harry told Draco what happened. He told him everything that happened in Dumbledore's office, what the Pensieve showed him, the trials from Karkaoff proclaiming Severus was still a Death Eater to Crouch Jr. being dragged away by the dementors, pleading with his father that he was innocent. Then Harry went on to recount what took place in Severus's chambers: the lack of denial to Harry's accusations, Severus grabbing onto his arm as if he's been shocked, how Harry's magical flying book narrowly missed Severus's head, and Severus's parting words before he left.

During that time, Draco listened attentive, his rocking rhythm never waning even when Harry sensed shock of Severus's alleged crime slamming into his body, coiling in his bones. Draco voiced his shock, his disbelief in Dumbledore and his memories, but for the most part remained quiet. When Harry was finally done talking what felt like hours later, he slumped against Draco's chest as if he were boneless, all his energy completely wiped out. Draco rocked him back and forth, and then took back his hand to rest his head on top of Harry's hair.

"What makes you so sure the memory was even real?" Draco asked. "For all we know Dumbledore could have altered it. After all, the man has to be over a thousand years old. His brain could have made it up."

Harry shook his head. "That's the whole point of Pensieve. It shows one their memories-their true memories. Also, Dumbledore has no reason to lie to me. He just looked at me and I got my answer."

"And Severus?"

Harry curled himself onto Draco's chest, burying his face in his friend's mostly-dry clothes. "He didn't even try to deny it."

"I still don't believe it." Draco stated. "I won't. Severus. A Death Eater. It's like-like…finding out Father was one."

Harry shared Draco's disbelief. Severus was one of the strongest, sharp-minded men he knew. He couldn't see him bowing down to Voldemort, obeying his every wish and whim like a puppet. But there was no denying the look of utter defeat in Severus's eyes when Harry flung the accusations at him and gained no protest.

Silence hung between the friends for a few more minutes until Draco broke through it, saying, "There's something else that's bothering me."

"What's that?"

"Did you actually throw a book at Severus?"

"I didn't throw it. My magic did. It was a react-wait a minute." Draco's question sank in. Harry glanced up at him. "Out of everything I just told you, that's what you're most curious about."

"Oh trust me, I'm plenty shocked by what you just told me. My mind is still trying to digest it all." The glaze of astonishment in his eyes confirmed it. Draco shook his head. "I'm trying to work out how you're still alive and breathing, Potter, after pulling a stunt like that. Anyone else, especially a Gyffindork, would be buried six feet deep as we speak."

Harry knew Draco was trying to distract him, and it almost worked. He could feel the faint touch of a smile brushing against the corner of his mouth. But the would-have-been smile died before it had a chance to grow when it occurred to Harry Severus was most likely too shocked from having the truth thrown at his face to notice the book. "Guess his mind was somewhere else."

Draco's rocking finally faltered, as did his smile. He bit his lip and looked away, the shock plastered on his face darkening to troubling thoughtfulness. Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

If his thoughts were pounds, they'd weigh over a hundred thousand. His head would have plunge through the floor from the heavy load. It felt like it was going any second.

He then felt Draco untie his arms and move away from him. Curious, Harry opened his eyes to find Draco standing in front of him, a hand stretched out. "Come on," he said.

"Where?"

"The sooner you get your arse up, the sooner you'll find out."

Rolling his still-puffy, red-rimmed eyes, Harry accepted his hand and got up.

Draco's surprise turned out to be a long, cold trip to a spacious area in the woods, close by the lake. The brutal winter that coated the woods almost seemed like a distant memory, all traces of snow wiped away, but the freezing air remained, blowing strong gushes of wind that seeped through Harry's sweatshirt. Stars dotted the inky-blue sky, shining like shards of broken diamonds, keeping the night from being fully dark.

"You mind telling me what we're doing here?" Harry asked, gaze sweeping across the area. The tree leaves ruffled from the light breeze.

"Think fast." Draco said. Harry barely had time to blink before something long and heavy was hurled his way. A second later and a few inches higher, the object would have hit Harry's face instead of his hands that were stinging from the catch.

Biting back a curse, Harry examined it. It was a broom, an early model like the ones Madame Hooch had them practice on for flying lessons first year.

He looked up to find Draco leaning against his own broom, a smirk curling his mouth. Harry's mind went to back to the flying incident that happened when they were six, Draco dragging him out of bed for a late-night flight. "Up for a game?" Draco asked.

"Here? Now?"

"No, Potter, the year 2020. I thought we'd just cuddle up with the brooms and watch the stars."

Smart-arse. "Do you even have a snitch?"

Draco walked over to him and cupped his left cheek, slowly stroking his skin, staring so intently into Harry's eyes like he did in the mirror dream. He leaned in close, brushing his finger against Harry's lower lip. Harry's breathing hitched-

Then Draco snatched his glasses off his face.

"Hey!"

"Now I do!" Draco winked and soared into the sky.

Growling, Harry hitched onto his broom and kicked off, sending himself high into the air.

The game started off as a glasses-substitute Quidditch game, in which a mostly-blind Harry managed to claim back his prize and threw a solid punch at Draco's arm while zooming past him. Then they called a new match with an actual golden snitch Draco had tucked away in his pocket. Soon the snitch was forgotten about with the boys going from chasing the tiny ball to chasing each other, engaging in a fierce but fun game of air-tag. Then it just became a round of flying itself.

Harry hadn't realized how much he missed flying until he was back on a broom. He may have used the Firebolt during the first task, but that was different. For one, no crazy, hundred-feet dragon was trying to kill him. Second, it was just nice being so high up, where everything was so open and felt clear as the night sky. Soaring through the air, feeling the wind kissing his face, whipping his hair made his problems seem like they were miles away.

Two hours later, he was laid across the soft green grass, flustered and sweaty, the breeze cooling him off, gazing up at the sky.

"Thanks." Harry whispered.

Draco smiled, lying beside him. "No problem," His smile then vanished, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Can I ask you something?"

Harry glanced up at him. "What?"

"What are you going to do about Severus?"

Harry sucked in the cool air and let it out slowly. "I don't know."

Draco drew figure-eights across Harry's chest, seemingly obvious to Harry's heartbeat pounding hard underneath. "Remember what happened the last time someone thought Severus was up to no good?"

Harry nodded. First year, when Harry and his friends were running around to learn more about the Philosopher's Stone, Hermione thought Severus was the culprit. The accusation wasn't exactly a stretch given the way he acted so strangely that year, like he was hiding something, and the fact he was murmuring a spell during the time Harry's broom was messing up during his first Quidditch match. As it turned out, Severus was actually protecting the stone just as he was protecting Harry from getting hurt by the real culprit.

Like he was always protecting Harry.

That was the needle branch Harry was grasping onto for dear life to keep from falling into the rabbit hole, one that lined the two battling sides raging on in his head.

Draco moved closer to Harry. "Do you trust Dumbledore?"

That was a good question, one that required Harry to think long and hard about it. "I trust…that he's a brilliant wizard."

Draco didn't bother keeping in his snort.

Harry continued on, "I trust what he said, at least in the Pensieve. Why would he stick up for Severus and say he's innocent if he didn't believe that?"

There was also the pain in Severus's eyes when he brought up Mum, recounting his failure in protecting her, his fear of failing Harry, all leading back to bad choices and ignoring instincts.

"What about Severus?" Draco questioned. "Do you trust him?"

Another good question. Harry thought back on it. One side of him was too stuck on Karkaoff's words, painting images of the dark mark inked on Severus's forearm, his face concealed by the sterling silver mask, turning a blind eye to the pain going around by him, having an hand in causing that same pain. Another part of him refused to give in, reminding Harry of how Severus was trusted by his mum to care for him, how the man did exactly that and more. That same part that recalled thousands of memories of Severus protecting him, watching out for him, holding onto him and letting him cry when memories of Halloween night were too much to handle, scolding him when he screwed up, quietly encouraging him with a rare nod or smile. Being not only a reliable, trust-worthy uncle, but becoming a father to Harry.

_There was a reason_ , the believing side whispered,  _you went to him._   _A reason you decided to hear him out._

Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

Sirius was caught in a similar situation where the truth seemed so obvious but still he pleaded to Harry that there was more to the story, which was why Harry went over to Severus's chambers, hoping onto hope that was more than one side to his. Remus was caught in a lie, hiding a horrific secret he kept under lock and key for years, delaying in telling the truth because he knew the outcome wouldn't be pretty, and then came clean when the secret was let out, not holding anything back. Which was Harry stayed, wanting to hear Severus's reasons for not only serving the Dark Lord but why he didn't tell him the truth early on.

Severus said he would tell the truth, the whole truth later on, warning that it would be hard for Harry to hear. Harry wondered if he would even survive hearing it or if the truth would crush the opposing side still clinging onto hope of Severus's innocence.

"At the moment," Harry confessed. "I don't know. To be honest, I don't know anything anymore."

Draco placed his hand against Harry's cheek and directed Harry's attention over to him. Draco's gaze was warm, soothing. "You know me. You know you can trust me."

"Always." Harry placed a hand over Draco's.

Draco leaned in close to press a soft kiss against Harry's forehead.

_I love you_. The words burnt in his throat.

* * *

The morning of the third task was almost similar to that of the first task with the excitement/anxiety high in the air, breakfast being carried out with a buffet of food, and Harry's stomach being tied into a thousand tight knots. The difference between the two was the fact the task would take place later on tonight, which gave Champions more time to prepare. Another was the fact it was in the happening right in the middle of finals week, which had to the toughest finals week yet, with him juggling between practicing for the tasks, gathering and rewriting his notes, keeping up with study groups, trying not fall asleep on his notes after finishing another inhalation of notes for a different final. It was one of the reasons Harry was so anxious this morning, his brain barely recovering from the grueling Charms exam he took yesterday and trying to remember all that would be on the History of Magic's one for tomorrow.

"Do you think Binn's may ask us about the rise of Obscurials in the 1940s?" Ron asked.

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "I think that was one of the topics he starred in the study guide."

"Bloody hell!" Ron smacked his hand against his forehead. "The one class I fell asleep in. And Hermione has the notes."

She had run off a few minutes ago after the latest article of the  _Daily Prophet_  came in, muttering to herself with a mad glint in her eye.

Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward them. "Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast. "

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidently spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

She moved away. Harry dropped his forehead onto his hand, groaning.

"Wouldn't it be a hoot if they invited the Dursleys down here and they actually showed?" Ron asked.

Oh yeah, a real hoot. The idea of his estranged, magic-hating relatives coming down to actually support him after seven years of total radio silence was just about as likely to happen as Theo burning down his entire library. With Hermione dancing in the burnt ashes.

It was strange though that McGonagall was the one to deliver the news. Usually that responsibility fell onto the Head of house. Harry glanced over at the staff table. Severus pulled away from his conversation from Madame Hooch to look over at him, quickly redirecting his glance.

_Oh, that's why._

And that was another reason why Harry was so anxious. Severus hadn't approached him since that night in his chambers, hardly said a word to him other than stating the instructions for their Potions final, emphasizing one missed step would cost five points. He was clearly giving Harry space to think things over, but it's been days since that painful conversation and Harry was just as confused as ever, going back and forth between believing that Severus was innocent and falling back on the fact he was connected to the psychotic monster who killed his parents. And wondering if Severus still believed in what Voldemort stood for.

"Come on, they're waiting for you!" Cedric cried.

Harry pushed aside his half-empty place and got up. He walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. From the looks of it, he definitely inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Draco smirking at him, standing next to Aunt Cissa with Sirius and Remus standing a few inches away.

"Who were expecting, Potter?" Draco teased. "The tooth fairy."

"Har-bloody-har." Harry said, but he couldn't stop his mouth from smiling broadly as he walked over to them.

Aunt Cissa opened her arms and he stepped into them easily, his nerves instantly soothed from her familiar floral scent that hadn't changed at all over the years. She dropped a soft kiss on his brow, holding him tight.

"My dear boy." She said. "Let me look at you." She released Harry from her hold and tilted up his head, examining him. "You still don't fix your hair."

Draco barely held onto his bark of laughter. Harry shot him a dark glare, then looked back at her. It was surprising how son and mother were here for him but not the father. "Where's Uncle?"

Laughter cleared from Draco's eyes, narrowing a bit as he looked at his mother. "Yes, that's a good question. Where is he?"

Aunt Cissa gave an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid, boys, he was called away on business. Some last-minute meeting."

Draco huffed. "But I wanted to ask him if he gotten my letter."

_Letter?_  Harry asked him through his gaze.  _What letter?_

_Oh_ , Draco's eyes said as he gave a casual shrug.  _Just the letter I sent last week asking him about Severus._

Harry's agape mouth was almost as big as his bugged out eyes.  _You asked him about Sev-_

Harry's silent question was cut off as he was hauled off his feet by Sirius who came behind and spun him around and around till room was one colorful blur.

"Lucky for you, kiddo," Sirius said. "You got me and Moony."

"Sirius, put him down!" Remus ordered.

"Yes, Daddy." Ignoring Remus's stammering, Sirius plucked Harry back down. If it wasn't for Remus's quick hands, Harry would have tumbled to the floor.

"Harry!"

He turned around to see Mrs. Weasley and Bill walking over to him. Mrs. Weasley scooped up him into a tight hug.

"Hi," he replied, the word coming on in a wheeze. "What are you guys doing here?"

Bill smiled at him. "Supporting you of course. Technically we aren't suppose to be here till way later, but we came early and dear Mum," He nudged her playfully. "thought it'd be fun to sneak in here."

Sirius whispered lowly, approval shining in his eyes. "A late rebel? I like it."

Mrs. Weasley blushed from the praise and smiled at Harry. "We just wanted to congratulate you on a job well-done, dear. You've been doing so well."

The scowl curling Aunt Cissa's mouth was a perfect match to Draco's. "How sweet."

Mrs. Weasley was taken back from the dry, chilled tone, moving a step back. Sirius swooped in and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Forgive my cousin, Molly. Anytime she's near someone with a decent personality and a live, beating heart, she breaks out into hives." He shuddered. "Not a pretty sight."

The glare in Aunt's Cissa said there were over two hundred parts in Sirius she'd be more than happy to break.

"Anyway," Bill said, standing a bit protectively in front of his mother. "The rest of the family is with Fred and George. Got themselves a bit into trouble-again." He rolled his ways in a what can you do kind of manner. "Well, except for Charlie. He wanted to come but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."

Fleur, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.

"I have an idea." Remus smiled. "Pup, how about you and Draco give us a tour around the school?"

"I'm all for it." Sirius agreed. "I want to see if all our detention-avoiding escape routes are still here."

"Not to mention," Draco muttered, linking his arm through Harry's. "Give us a chance to get rid of the riffraff." He glared at the Weasleys.

Harry rolled his eyes but moved a bit closer to Draco, receiving a warm smile that was easily returned. Sirius watched them with a suspicious-looking, amused glint in his eyes. When he saw he had Harry's full attention, he drew a line against his throat with his finger.

"Broken heart," he mouthed. "Severed head on stick."

Oh bother. Harry turned around, warmth spreading to his cheeks. He was grateful Draco wasn't paying attention to Sirius's antics, already leading them to the door. As they passed Amos Diggory, he looked around.

"There are you, are you?" He examined Harry from head to toe, hardly impressed by what he saw. "Bet you're not feeling quite full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"

"What?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Ignore him," said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Trizwizard Tournament-you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, did he?" Mr. Diggory protested.

Sirius gave the man a pleasantly-dark smile. "I'd be careful where you shot the venom, Amos. Skeeter learned the hard way that the critics carry quite a bite." He bared his teeth.

Mr. Diggory flinched, flustered. Harry couldn't help but smile. Somehow, word had leaked about Harry's visions of Voldemort, which fell onto Skeeter's lap. She who wasted no time running the story, portraying Harry as not only a delusional, arrogant competitor but one whose mental stability should be checked out. Less than an hour later, another story poured from the Daily Prophet, only this time it was of their star reporter herself, mouth formed into a big O as she darted around the Diagon Alley with a black dog whose teeth were deeply embedded in her arse, grinning madly at the camera while revealing an unwanted patch of Skeeter's lacy purple thong.

Mr. Diggory skidded away, as if the dog was about to pounce on him any second. Harry covered his mouth to hold his chuckle, grinning at Sirius who shot him a sly wink.

Harry wound up having a good day walking around the school grounds with his family. Not much had really changed from the time his aunt, Sirius, and Remus were in school; even less had changed since Remus taught here. But still, they were pleasantly surprised by all the things they remembered from their Hogwarts days that were still there. Aunt Cissa was amused when she found out Sir Cadogan was still around, torturing students with his riddles and duel challenges. Sirius couldn't keep the smirk off his face when he saw the Whomping Willow, clearly remembering their interesting night third year. Remus entertained them with stories of the best schemes and mishaps pulled by the Marauders, pointing to the spots where a backfired spell flung Sirius into the lake, where Dad hung upside down ten feet in the air with his trousers pulled down to his ankles.

Later on, they returned at the Great Hall for an evening feast, though frowns pulled at Aunt Cissa's and Draco's faces when the Wealseys joined them. Then a frown twisted Mrs. Weasley face when Hermione came over to the table.

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.

"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry looked between them, then said, "Mrs. Weasley, you don't actually believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in  _Daily Prophet_ , did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley. "No-of course I don't!"

She became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that. Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry noticed his mood brightened from Harry's words.

Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff at their table. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxine, looked stern and kept to himself. Madame was concentrating on her plate, and Harry thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel nervous again, didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overheard began to fade from blue to dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentleman, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Trizwizard Tournament. Will the Champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Harry got up. He started to feel a bit better when he felt Draco stood from his seat and stood beside him, his hand slipping through Harry's. He let out a relieved sigh and received a firm squeeze in return. Most of the school, especially the Slytherins, applauded for him. Sirius placed his fingers underneath his tongue and blew hard, releasing rounds of loud whistles that heightened the crowd's excitement. Remus gave him a thumbs-up while Aunt Cissa gave a smile that carried the warmth of a thousand hugs. Hermione and the rest of the Wealseys wished him good luck. He and Draco headed out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

The elder Champions followed Bagman through the Quidditch field into the huge tent. At the last minute, Harry, feeling a prick of bravery running through his body, directed himself and Draco over to the back of one of the benches, making sure they were hidden from sight. He added a cloaking spell, along with a silencing one, to make sure eavesdroppers wouldn't interrupt them.

"Last I checked, Potter, the third task is happening that way." Draco jerked his thumb over to the tent, where he could see the rest of the champions gearing up.

"I know." Harry said with a shrug. "I suppose I just wanted to savor the sight of you actually above ground-and dry."

His words earned him a nasty glare from Draco. "Keep it up, Potter, and you'll be seeing the merpeople a lot sooner than you think."

Harry smiled at him, unfazed by the threat. Draco was annoyed, but couldn't rid himself of the smile that took hold of his mouth, turning the corners up.

Harry only looked away when the warmth quivering in his chest became too much, feeling it spread to his face. Sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "I just…wanted to say…thanks."

Draco's brow rose questioningly. "For what?"

"Just…" For holding him onto tight when he broke down, the news over Severus too much to handle. For putting up him preparing for the tasks and practicing the spells until he was sure he was fine. For believing in him since the beginning of the Tournament. "For being such a really great friend."

A strange look crossed Draco's eyes, disappearing as quickly it appeared before Harry had time to analyze. The left corner of his mouth rose as he responded with a shrug, "An excruciating job but someone's got to do it. I was simply chosen as the unwilling tribute."

Harry glared playfully at him. "Prat."

"Git." Amusement sparked in Draco's eyes.

A warning whistle went off, calling everyone to their seats-and Harry to his place. Draco shot him a smile and was about go, until Harry drew him back with a gentle tug of his arm.

"Yes?" he inquired, not pulling away.

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out, the sheer warmth in Draco's eyes so few got to see, his undeniable beauty striking him like a Crucio. The first time he ever met Draco, he thought the boy was a prince that stepped out of the pages of a storybook. He could now see how his prince grew into a king, a beautiful strong king.

Heart pounding loudly, Harry brushed away strands of corn-silk hair from his gray eyes, then his hand dropped to Draco's cheek, stroking his skin gently. He closed the distance between them, his lips falling gently onto Draco's, shivering from the righteous warmth that lit inside his heart like a match.

Slow, soft, burning every vein in his body.

Then completely changed as Draco pushed into him, and Harry's back slammed against the back of the bench. He could feel pain tingling along his spine from the hard impact, but it faded away to complete insignificance as their tongues came out to dance, the spark in his chest growing to a vast firestorm.

Their kisses soft yet deep, slow and fast, fierce and passionate, tongues catching every delicious ember dripping from their lips that craved more-needed more. A moan, one of many, ripped through Harry's throat as Draco's lips were ripped from him, giving Harry a chance to eat his oxygen-derived lungs, and inserted themselves onto his neck, coating his skin with kisses and nips and bites that added heat to the fire stirring in his body, licking the pit of his stomach.

Harry's hands sought shelter underneath Draco's shirt, his nails drawing lines against the boy's bare back. That made Draco hungrier, digging his teeth deep into Harry's skin, leaving a mark. His lips were back on Harry's before he could blink, liquefying everything, his bones, his organs, his cells into molten lava with his greedy mouth that tore him apart in every stroke and caress.

Harry finally pulled back when the need for air became too much. He eased his breath away, gulping down breaths of air.

A whistle went on in the field, warning two minutes till the third task-and for Harry to get out there.

Draco's eyes, the blazing silver slowly dimming back to gray, watched Harry carefully as he straightened himself out before he worked on his own appearance. The whistle went out for a second time, blaring a bit longer.

Draco looked over his shoulder, wearing a soft, almost-unsure smile. Harry walked over to him, took Draco's hands in his, and smiled up at him, the maddening and overwhelming emotions he felt after the second task filling his chest.

"After the task," he told his best friend. "There's something important I need to tell you."

Draco's gaze dropped to their joint hands, then went back up to Harry's gaze, staring intently into them as if he was searching an answer for his question. He seemed to find his answer given the way his smile brightened a fraction. "I'll be waiting at the finish line."

Harry nodded, peeled his hands away from Draco's, and made his way over the tent. He stopped mid-step when he heard his name being called.

He looked over his shoulder at Draco. "Potter," he said. "You better come back in one piece."

"I will," Harry swore. "I promise."

Draco crossed his arms and let out a sigh, relieved. He jerked his head towards the field. "Better get going then."

_I love you._  The words burnt in Harry's throat, stirring in his tongue.

But as soon as he made it through the final task, as soon as he done with the tournament, he'd finally say them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to Stages edits:
> 
> http://gloster.tumblr.com/post/181496329483/gloster-happy-birthday-ashley-aka
> 
> http://dreamydrarry.tumblr.com/post/153145419900/if-youre-looking-for-a-drarry-fic-thats-a-slow
> 
> http://dreamydrarry.tumblr.com/post/140071493535/just-a-little-drarry-edit-i-made-inspired-by-and
> 
> Follow me at tumblr if interested. Penname is gloster


	40. All That Glitters Not Always Gold (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR'S AND NEW YEAR'S EVE TO ALL. 
> 
> I have two words to say to 2018: GOOD RIDDANCE. This year definitely throw a lot of punches, had too many hard hits, and had its' twisted fun messing with my mental health but it is finally almost over and I cannot wait.
> 
> One thing that definitely got me through the rough year was fanfics and of course your readers with your sweet, sweet comments that made my day. Thank you so much for that. 
> 
> Now onto the chapter. I only have two things to say: Brace Yourself

With the first task, Harry's heart pounded in a wild frenzy the moment he stepped onto the arena and saw the gigantic Horntail standing over him, eyes deadly, teeth sharp, and flames leaking from his mouth.

With the second task, everything was drawn to a blank the moment he found out his best friend was taken, held hostage underwater, and all he could think about was getting him back, battling his way through masses of thick seaweed, demonic creatures, and clingy merwomen with sharp claws until he saw Draco was safe again and then everything was drawn to a blank again. But this time, it was due to the tornado of feelings that hit his chest when he looked at hm.

With the third task, it was like a combination of the two initial reactions with Harry cursing every one of the judges on the panel and every member involved in the Tournament committee to the burning depths of hell as he ran for his dear life.

He knew the third task would be difficult. For the last task, there was little doubt in anyone's mind, much less the Champions, that Tournament committee was bound to come up with something that would really stun the crowd (which seemed incredibly stupid since the audience couldn't even watch them) and really challenge the Champions.

And dear Merlin, were they being challenged.

Harry felt like he was Alice trying to find her way out of Wonderland. If Wonderland was a dark, confusing maze featuring a confusing pathway that took him back near the beginning or led him to a path that was the complete opposite route from where he originally intended; multiple-limbed, sharp-teethed creatures who took snippets of his clothes and clawed scratches onto his skin before he stunned them; Dementors who crept over from every possible corner and held him in a icy grip he barely managed to escape from, bearing bruises and sluggish limbs from the encounter; and voices, a chorus of voices.

Some were as hauntingly beautiful as the mermaids' song that dulled his senses, some terrifying like animal shrieks and howls that rattled his bones, and some that were familiar. In the middle of running, Harry came across an echo that sounded like Sirius's laughing, causing him to run left. He turned right when he read Hermione urging to come near. He then paused when he heard his mother singing him an old lullaby, then broke out into a sprint, quickly realizing the voices were making him run around in circles.

And it seemed like the effects of the maddening maze were taking effects on all of them. A terrified scream led Harry through a mass of tall bushes and tangled vines, straight to Cedric, who was being by a Crucio hex from Krum of all people.

Cedric was jerking and twitching on the ground, Krum standing over him.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at him just as Krum looked up. Krum turned around and ran.

" _Stupefy!_ " Harry yelled.

The spell hit Krum in the back, knocking him onto the ground, where he fell face-forward on the grass and laid motionless. Harry dashed over to Cedric, who stopped twitching and laid there panting, his hands over his face.

"Are you all right?" Harry said roughly, grabbing Cedric's arm.

"Yeah," Cedric panted. "Yeah…I didn't believe it…he crept up behind me…I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand…"

Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry looked down at Krum.

"I can't believe this…I thought he was all right." Harry mumbled. Maybe he and Hermione should have listened to Ron after all.

"So did I," said Cedric. "I think he got Fleur."

Harry turned his bewildered eyes over to Cedric. "Fleur?" She had been nothing but kind to all of them, especially to Krum. At the end of the first task, she was one who comforted the boy over his low scoring.

Cedric nodded grimly. "I heard her scream earlier. I thought it was an illusion or something, till I heard it again. And again. I was running over there when Krum came behind me."

"Dear god." Harry hoped she was all right. Based on what he remembered reading, Veela were able to heal fast, but it all depended how fatal the wound and how many times it was inflicted.

"Should we leave him there?" Cedric muttered.

"No," said Harry. "I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone will come and collect him…otherwise he'll probably be eaten by a skrewt."

"He'd deserve it," Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered above Krum, marking the spot where he lay.

The two then departed with a grim nod, acknowledging their group effort, Cedric disappearing into a mass of thick bushes, Harry continuing straight. He used the Four-point Spell to make sure he was moving in the right direction.

He and Cedric were the only ones left. His desire to reach the cup first burnt stronger than ever, but he could barely believe what he had seen Krum do. Moody told them first day of DADA class the use of an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human meant a life-term sentence in Azkaban. Krum surely couldn't have wanted the Trizwizard Cup that badly…Harry speed up.

Every so often, he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting nearer the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary creature, one which he had only seen in picture form in his  _Monster Book of Monsters._

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion, great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft, and the head of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as she approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. He may have struck the merwoman but only after she attacked him. The sphinx gave no indication she was going to attack, not crouching into a spring but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his path. Then she spoke in a deep, hoarse voice.

"You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"So…so will you move, please?" Harry asked, although he already knew the answer he'd get.

The sphinx didn't disappoint, delivering a solid, unmoving "No." She paced around the path, eyes pinned on him. "Not unless you answer my riddle. Answer on first guess-I let you pass. Answer wrongly-I attack. Remain silent-I will let you walk away unscratched."

_But still not let him pass._  Harry's stomach slipped several notches. Theo or Hermione was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If he tried and failed, he'd be mauled. If the riddle was too hard, though, he could remain silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try to find a different route to the path.

"Okay," he said. "Can I hear the riddle?"

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

" _First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together, and answer this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

Harry gaped at her.

"Could I have it again…more slowly?" he asked tentatively.

She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the poem.

"All clues add up to a creature I wouldn't want to kiss?"

She merely smiled her mysterious smile. Harry took that for a "yes." He cast his mind around. There were plenty of animals he wouldn't want to kiss, his immediate thought a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but something told him that wasn't the answer. He'd have to try and work out the clues….

"A person in disguise," Harry muttered, staring at her. "who lies…er…that's be a-an impostor. No, that's not my guess! A-a spy! I'll come back to that….could you give me the next clue again, please?"

She repeated the next lines of the poem.

"'The last thing to mend,'" Harry repeated. "Er….no idea….'middle of middle'…could I have that last bit again?"

She gave him the last four lines.

"'The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word,'" said Harry. "Er…that'd be…er…hang on-'er! Er's a sound!"

The sphinx smiled at him.

"Spy…er…spy…er…." said Harry, pacing up and down. "A creature I wouldn't want to kiss… _a spider!_ "

The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass.

"Thanks!" Harry grinned, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.

He had come close now; he had to be….His wand was telling he was bang on course; as long as he didn't meet anything too horrible, he might have a chance…

Harry broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up ahead. " _Point me!_ " he whispered again to his wand, and it spun around, pointing him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead.

The Trizwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurled out onto the path in front of him.

Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and Harry knew he would never catch up. Cedric was much taller, had longer legs-

Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to his left, moving quickly along a path that intersected with his own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had not seen it-

"Cedric!" Harry bellowed. "On your left!"

Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. Harry saw Cedric's wand fly out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric.

" _Stupefy!_ " Harry yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have thrown a stone at it. The spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry instead.

" _Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!_ "

But it was no use-the spider was either so large or so magical, that the spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Harry had one horrifying glimpse of the eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon him.

He was lifted into the air in its front legs; struggling madly, he tried to kick it; his legs connected with the pincers and next moment he was in excruciating pain. He could hear Cedric yelling " _Stupefy!_ " too, but his spell had no more effect than Harry's. Harry raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once more and shouted " _Expelliarmus!_ "

It worked-the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant Harry fell twelve feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled underneath him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the spider's underbelly, as he had done with the skrewt and shouted " _Stupefy!_ " just as Cedric yelled the same thing.

The two spells combined did what one alone had not: The spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs.

"Harry!" he heard Cedric shouting. "You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"No," Harry called back, panting. He looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and didn't want to support his weight. He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around.

Cedric was standing feet from the Trizwizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him.

"Take it, then," Harry panted to Cedric. "Go on, take it. You're there."

But Cedric didn't move. He merely stood there, looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup. Harry saw the longing on his face in its golden light. Cedric looked around at Harry, who was now holding onto the hedge to support himself. He took a deep breath.

"You take it. You should win. That's twice you saved my neck in here."

"Cedric-"

"I mean it," Despite the longing in his eyes, the firm tone in his voice was nonnegotiable. "You should win. After everything you've been through, it's the least you deserve."

What he deserved was a year-long, deep nap. A strong dosage of healing potions to ease the pain currently eating his leg. And-anxious gray eyes that was no doubt wide in panic with time ticking away and Harry not yet making it back.

As much as Harry wanted to win, as much as he would love to have the trophy, he wanted the whole bloody mess to do over and done with. First place be damned. As long as he made it out, proving to the naysayers and even to himself that he managed to survive the Tournament despite his reluctant participation, he was perfectly fine with that.

It then hit him that he had a better prize waiting for him at the finish line: the owner to those anxious gray eyes that would narrow in anger the second Harry came out, his thin pink lips forming into a o to release a stream of curses that would come to a halt when Harry kissed those lips again. And again and again, only pulling back to say those three incredible words that's been brewing inside him for months now.

"Take the trophy, Cedric, alright. You got there first, you earned it."

The stubborn Hufflepuff shook his head. "You take it, Harry."

"Will you stop being so bloody noble and go already?"

Cedric watched Harry steadying himself, holding tight to the hedge. He shook his head, saying, "It wouldn't be right. You told me about the dragons. I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."

"I had help on that too," Harry snapped, trying to mop up his bloody leg with his robes. "You helped me with the egg-we're square."

"I had help on the egg in the first place," said Cedric.

"We're still square," said Harry, testing his leg gingerly; it shook violently as he put weight on it. He must had sprained his ankle when the spider dropped him.

"You should've got more points on the second task. You stayed behind to get all the hostages. I should've done that."

"I was the only one thick enough to take that stupid song seriously!" Harry snapped again. "Just take the cup!"

Cedric glanced over at him and shifted his eyes back at Harry, shaking his head. "No."

"Diggory!" Harry was sure he was on the tipping edge of his patience. "Just go already!"

"Not until you take the cup." To prove his point, Cedric folded his hands and stood in place.

Harry gritted his teeth to hold in the curses buzzing in his mouth, feeling frustration bubble inside him like lava. He shifted his eyes over from the stubborn Hufflepuff over to the trophy that practically taunted him with its' gleaming shine. At the exact moment a shimmer of light flashed across it, an idea came to him, one that would solve both their problems.

"Both of us," Harry said.

"What?"

"We take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. Both our Houses get the praise. And that way we both come out as winners."

Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms.

"You-you sure?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah….we've helped each other, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face spilt in a grin.

"You're on," he said. "Come here."

He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they reached it, they both held a hand out over the cup's gleaming handles.

"On three, right?" Harry said. "One-two-three-"

He and Cedric both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a prick somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding onto the Trizwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.

* * *

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand left go of the Trizwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.

"Where are we?" he said.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.

They had completely left the Hogwarts grounds; they had obviously traveled miles-perhaps hundreds of miles-for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Trizwizard Cup and then up at Harry.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," Harry glanced around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," Cedric said, sounding slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

They took out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He couldn't shake off the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arm, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and was wearing a hooded cloak pulled over his head to obscure his face. And-several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time-Harry saw the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby…or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric gave him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded in pain. It was agony in its finest, most excruciating form as he never felt before. His wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to spilt open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say " _Kill the spare._ "

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched-

_Green light filled the room, so bright that Harry could barely see anything. Except for Mummy's form standing in front of him, slowly swinging to the right as if she was pushed, streams of red as bright as her hair pouring out of her, raining down on him and the floor. Her screaming, echoing throughout the room like a horrible, soul-piercing crescendo, finally ended as she hit the floor._

The pain diminished as soon it appeared. Terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him, pale, motionless, hollow eyes staring up at the sky.

For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised.

_No._  It was only one word, the only thing that stood out clearly through the dizzying, numbing haze over taking him, spinning around and around like a wild top.  _No_. No, no, no, no. no-

Before Harry's could fully grasped what had happened, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The short man in the cloak had put down the bundle, lit his wand, and dragged Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name flickering in the wandlight-

**TOM RIDDLE**

Tom Riddle, the severed soul bound in the journal that caused mayhem second year. Tom Riddle who had been controlling Ginny and the basilisk. Tom Riddle, who proudly proclaimed that Voldemort was his past, present, and future.

Harry snapped back into reality just in time to bite the hand gripping onto his shoulder, bitter cooper spilling into his mouth, and stepped on the man's foot for extra measure. The grip on his shoulder loosened; the man left out a howl of pain as he cradled his injured hand. Harry used that moment of distraction to run, ignoring his twisted leg, running as if the devil was right behind him.

He was about halfway through the graveyard before he was frozen as if he were caught in a tight fist, arms pinned painfully to the sides and legs together, every muscle in his body stiff as stone.

"You little brat!" the man shrieked. "And to think your dad bragged that you stopped biting people when you turned two!"

_His dad-_ Harry couldn't even finish the thought before he was brought back over to the headstone, slamming against the cold, hard marble. By the time painful red stars cleared away from his vision, the cloaked man conjured tight cords around Harry, tying him from the neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear swallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man struck him, hitting him with a hand that had a missing finger.

A missing finger. Cold, paralyzing dread poured into Harry's body. There was one person he knew who that was missing a finger. Pettigrew.

"You!" he gasped.

But Wormtail, who finished conjuring up the ropes, didn't reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from inside his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth. Then without another word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could only see what was right in front of him.

Cedric's body was lying twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in starlight, was the Trizwizard Cup. Harry's wand was on the ground at Cedric's feet. The bundle of roses that Harry thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again…and he suddenly knew that he didn't want to see what was in those robes…he didn't want that bundle opened…

He could hear noise at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was moving something heavy across the ground. Then he came within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water-Harry could hear it slopping around-and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a fully-grown man to sit in.

The thing inside the bundle of the robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Wormtail busied himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.

The liquid in the cauldron heated quickly, the surface not only bubbling but sending fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice again.

" _Hurry!_ "

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

"It is ready, Master."

" _Now_ …" said the cold voice.

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a scream that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind-but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish-black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face-no child ever had a face like that-flat and snakelike with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rime of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

_Let it drown_ , Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance.  _Please…let it drown._

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ "

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

By then, Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled out a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

" _Flesh-of the servant-w-willingly given-you will-revive-your master!_ "

He stretched out his right hand out in front of him-the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened-he closed his eyes tightly as he could, but couldn't block out the scream that pierced the night that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, and then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn't stand to look…but the potion had turned a burning red, the bright light of it shining through Harry's closed eyelids.

Wormtail was gasping and moaning in agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished, foul breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him.

" _B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken….you will…resurrect your foe._ "

Harry couldn't do anything to stop it; he was tied too tightly…Squinting down, struggling helplessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its sharp point thrust into the crook of his right arm, blood was seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes, and bit down hard to hold in the scream coiling in his throat, rattling his teeth. Wormtail, still panting in pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that thick drips of crimson fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened…

_Let it have drowned_ , Harry thought,  _let it have gone wrong…_

And then, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air… _It's gone wrong_ , he thought… _it's drowned…please…please let it be dead_.

Bu then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from the behind the steam. Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's hand.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry…and Harry stared back into the face that haunted his nightmares for years. Whiter than a skill, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils….

Lord Voldemort.

Air wheezed out of Harry as if hands were clenched around his throat, his heart pounding wildly like it was about to burst from his chest.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too and then he raised it, pointing it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied. He fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

"My Lord..." he choked, "my Lord...you promised...you did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh Master...thank you, Master..."

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please... _please_..."

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it...and now, we shall see...now we shall know..."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

The scar on Harry's forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl. Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down before Harry and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool...very much like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child...and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself in death..."

Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was...He didn't like magic, my father. He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage...but I vowed to find him...I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... _Tom Riddle_..."

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.

"Listen to me, reliving family history..." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental...But look, Harry! My true family returns..."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them hooded and masked. One by one they moved forward...slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, some crawling toward Voldemort and kissing the hem of his black robes.

"Master...Master..." he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Seven years...seven years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then!  _Or are we?_ "

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."

A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances!-and I ask myself...why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment ..."

No one dared breathe a word, but the tension, the guilt earlier on intensified tenfold.

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"

One of them, the same one Harry remembered kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes, was shaking like a leaf, struggling to keep it together.

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort...perhaps they now pay allegiance to another...perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.

"It is a disappointment to me...I confess myself disappointed..."

The shaken man suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand.

" _Crucio!_ "

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked; Harry was sure the sound must carry to the houses around... _Let the police come_ , he thought desperately... _anyone_... _anything_...

Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Seven long years...I want seven years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please, Master...please..."

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me...and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers..."

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.

"My Lord," he whispered. "Master...it is beautiful...thank you... _thank you_..."

He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," said Voldemort.

"No, my Lord...never, my Lord..."

Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears.

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space - large enough for two people - that separated two of his followers.

"The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me...When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us...they are our natural allies...we will recall the banished giants...I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear..."

He walked on, passing each of his followers silently that trembled even more frantically when he passed by. All except the man near the far end. Voldermort stopped before him, his crimson eyes narrowing into cold slits.

"Look at me."

The man slowly raised his head, the starlight glinting against his mask.

"You are hanging by a very  _thin_  thread. Ensure that it doesn't snap." The venom dripping from Voldermort's lips could kill on the spot.

The man bowed his head, causing strands of long, pale hair to escape from inside his hood, spilling onto his shoulder. Pale, unmistakable, platinum blonde hair.

Harry's chest began to close in around his heart like a cage, the bones breaking apart into sharp spikes.  _No…no…._

The man glanced over at Harry, as if he could sense his gaze, his hair following the direction of the chilled wind, his pale-colored eyes glinting from his mask.

There was only one person he knew who had hair that long, hair that pale. Just as he knew only one person could have dove-gray eyes.

_Uncle Lucius…_

Harry's heart dropped, his stomach surged forward, the two of organ colliding and entangling into a tight, burning knot, sending frigid shockwaves through his numb body until his insides were solid ice.

The man lowered his head.

Voldemort, blind to the demoralizing exchange, continued on and had reached the largest gap of all. He stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters...three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return...he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever...he will be killed, of course...and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."

The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.

"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight...Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry's direction. "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, speaking from under the mask.

"Master, we crave to know...we beg you to tell us...how you have achieved this...this miracle...how you managed to return to us..."

"Ah, what a story it is, Koilas," said Voldemort. "And it begins - and ends - with my young friend here."

He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him - and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen...I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice...This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it...but no matter. I can touch him now."

Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah...pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost...but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know...I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal- to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked...for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself...for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand...

"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist...I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited...Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me...one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body...but I waited in vain..."

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill-adapted to perform magic...and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long...

"Then...four years ago...the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of...for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school...he was easy to bend to my will...he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted...thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter..."

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers...Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour...I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess...and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me..."

One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last...a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He actually did something I would not have believed a useless lump like him could achieve: he escaped Azkaban, slipping right under the guards' noses. He then sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding...helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them...

"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food...and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jerkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic.

"Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jerkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her...he brought her to me. And Bertha Jerkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams...for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information.

"She told me that the Trizwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things...but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless.

"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth...a spell or two of my own invention...a little help from my dear Nagini," Voldemort's red eyes fell upon the continually circling snake, "a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided...I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel.

"There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower...I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength.

"I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant...

"My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe...Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me...as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter's blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power seven years ago...for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too...

"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic to ensure his safety and kept him hidden well, where my magic couldn't touch him...Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup...I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his hiding spot and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?

"Why...by using Bertha Jerkins' information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Trizwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is...the boy you all believed had been my downfall..."

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.

" _Crucio!_ "

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die...

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.

"You see how foolish it was to believe that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching.

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.

There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling lessons with Severus earlier on when he began learning magic, then the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago...The best spell he learned was the Disarming Spell, " _Expelliarmus_ " but what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned...the unblockable  _Avada Kedavra_  curse - and Voldemort was right - his mother was not here to die for him this time...He was quite unprotected...

"We bow to each other. Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed...Dumbledore would like you to show manners...Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him...he was not going to give him that satisfaction...

"I said,  _bow_ ," Voldemort said, raising his wand - and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. "And now you face me, like a man...straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...

"And now - we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was...White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life -

And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause...That hurt, didn't it. Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

Harry didn't answer. He was going to die like Cedric, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so...he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it...but he wasn't going to play along. He wasn't going to obey Voldemort...he wasn't going to beg...

Biting his lip so badly, blood filled his mouth, Harry looked around for a way out. A weak spot he could charge through. His eyes, against his will, landed on the Death Eater at the far end who was given the harsh warning from Voldemort earlier, the only one silent among his fellow laughing brethren, watching Harry closely, carefully.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me!  _Imperio!_ "

And Harry felt, for the third time in his life, the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought...Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming... _just answer no_... _say no_... _just answer no_...

I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I won't answer...

_Just answer no..._

I won't do it, I won't say it...

_Just answer no..._

"I WON'T!"

And these words burst from Harry's mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him - back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body - back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing...

"You won't?" said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die...Perhaps another little dose of pain?"

Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry...come out and play, then...it will be quick...it might even be painless...I would not know...I have never died..."

Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope...no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort's feet...he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible...

Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone. Harry stood up...he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort.

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, " _Expelliarmus!_ " Voldemort cried, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's - they met in midair - and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then - nothing could have prepared Harry for this - he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves...The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands -

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now...

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air...It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.

It was the sound of hope to Harry...the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life...He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just around him...It was the sound he connected with his family: his aunt, Sirius, Remus, Draco. It was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear...

_Don't break the connection._

I know. Harry told the music, I know I mustn't...but no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever...and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too...it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way...The direction of the beams movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily...

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers -

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed...and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way...and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now...Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful...

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve...but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort's wand...and slowly...very slowly...it moved along the golden thread...it trembled for a moment...and then it connected...

At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain...then - Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished...the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail...more shouts of pain...and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke...It was a head...now a chest and arms...the torso of Cedric Diggory.

If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory ( _was_  it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel...and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

"Hold on, Harry," he said.

His voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort...his wide red eyes were still shocked...he had no more expected this than Harry had...and, very dimly. Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome.

More screams of pain from the wand...and then something else emerged from its tip...the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso...an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done...and his ghost, or his shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick...

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did...You fight him, boy..."

But already, yet another head was emerging...and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's...Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring...

The shadow of Bertha Jerkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.

"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedric's as though from very far away. "Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!"

She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it...and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort.

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand...and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be...he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand...knew, because the man appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other tonight...

The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him...and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.

"Your dad's coming, sweetheart..." He could make out the gentle smile on face."He wants to see you...it will be all right...hold on..."

And he came...first his head, then his body...tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear...

"When the connection is broken, lion, we will linger for only moments...but we will give you time...you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts...do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.

"Harry..." whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents..."

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

"Do it now," whispered his father's voice. "be ready to run...do it now..."

"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway - he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze -

And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones - he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do -

" _Stun him!_  "He heard Voldemort scream.

Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel -

" _Impedimenta!_ " he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.

From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm...

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort. Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach -

Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.

" _Accio!_ " Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Trizwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle -

He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him...They were going back. They were going ba-

Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him were swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching: the smooth, cold handle of the Trizwizard Cup and Cedric's body. He felt as though he would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting...waiting for someone to do something...something to happen...and all the while, his scar burned dully on his forehead...

A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams...He remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass...

Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over.

" _Harry! Harry_  "

He opened his eyes.

He was looking up at the starry sky, and Sirius was crouched over him, Remus by his other side. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath his head reverberating with their footsteps.

"Kiddo! Speak to me!" Sirius grabbed the front of his bloody, torn shirt and shook him. "Are you alright?"

He had come back to the edge of the maze. He could see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.

Harry let go of the cup, but he clutched Cedric to him even more tightly. He raised his free hand and seized Sirius's wrist while Sirius's face swam in and out of focus. He felt a cool hand, most likely Remus, brushing against his burning forehead.

"He's back," Harry whispered. "He's back. Voldemort."

"What?"

"What's going on? What's happened?"

"Harry's back! He's okay!"

"Wait a minute- _is that Diggory?!_ "

" _He's dead!_ "

" _Cedric's dead!_ "

Any trace of excitement over their returning Champions was a cold, distant memory when eyes took in their conditions, one badly injured, the other pale and still, excited cheers erupting to horrific screams and weeping.

In the midst of the madness, Harry was brought up, his head spinning; vision and hearing swaying back and forth like the unsteady motion of a boat. In the midst of the madness, he could make out the heartbreaking screams of a father that was painful to listen to as the mother's weeping.

" _Cedric! Cedric! Where's my son? What happened to my son?_ "

It was like he was at the mercy of Voldemort's wand, the heartbreaking screams cutting him deeper than any of the curses.

" _Harry!_ "

Bottom lip quivering, Harry turned his tear-filled eyes to see Draco elbowing and pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get to him.

" _Harry!_ "

Just as he predicted, those gray eyes were wide in anxiety. Seeing that familiar eye color that glinted through the silver mask, seeing that familiar platinum-blonde hair filled his body with unbearable, grueling pain.

With the remains of his tattered, mangled heart completely torn to shreds, Harry turned away from Draco and buried his face against Sirius's chest, keeping it there.


	41. Drawing a Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 2019 TO ALL! May this year be kind and gentle and awesome for us all

The sound of her high heels reverberated throughout the silent manor as she climbed up the stairs and walked down the hallway, eyes pinned on the door at the end of the hall. With each step she took closer, emotions dark as black, vicious as a storm build up inside her, stirring, brewing till her muscles were coiled tightly-

" _Mistress, no!_ " She nearly stumbled on her feet as a strong force grabbed hold of her, yanking her back. She turned around to find it was one of their house-elves, the fervent one always causing a mess. "Master upset!" it cried, pulling her back. "Master order no one disturb him!"

Narcissa claimed back her arm with a sharp tug that nearly had the creature falling flat on his face. He sprung forward as if he were about to pull her again, but then froze at the harsh glare of her ice-blue eyes. "The next time you lay a hand on me, elf, will be the last time you have an arm."

The creature disappeared with a frightened squeak. She straightened out her dress that was distorted from the ordeal and then continued on her way.

When she reached the door, Narcissa took in a slow, deep breath, latching onto every emotion flaring inside her and crushing it into a tiny ball she shoved in the deepest corners of her chest. She curved her lips into a soft, lovely smile and pushed open the door, stepping inside.

The study, done in dark shades of gray and blackish-blue, was surprisingly small compared to their usual standards of size and the multiple shelves stuffed inch by inch with thick books and magical artifacts made it even smaller. Still, the size was suitable, giving it a modest, almost comforting feel. The small size was also the perfect illusion of simplicity, unless one looked carefully at the clawed hand mounted in the third shelve that, with a firm tug, revealed a passageway that led to a private library containing more powerful books and treasure or into the stony eyes of the onyx crow statue perched on the desk that sent the mind into a spiraling void. The room was often heavily warded, meant to keep curious little boys out and to ensure the owner absolute privacy.

She was shocked by how little resistance met her push, able to push the door forward and step inside easily.

Lucius was at his desk, glaring at the back of the head of the crow. He was a near-flawless statue, his body immobile, his pale complexion sharply contrasting with the blackness of the night sky behind him. Moonlight poured in from the wide windows, turning his pale hair almost silver. The expression on his face was troubled, eyes narrow and distant as if he were caught in a tide of memories, jaw clamped tight. Those distant eyes only looked up when he heard her walk down the two steps.

"I trust the meeting went well?" she inquired, her tone pleasant.

Lucius focused on his hand that rested on his desk, curling it into a fist and then falling apart last second, returning to its relaxed state. Finally, what felt like hours later, he answered, "Productive enough, I suppose."

She nodded slightly, letting out a soft hum. "Well, given the havoc and terror that came out tonight, I imagine your master must be quite pleased."

Lucius took in a sharp breath as if the words were a punch to the gut, his eyes snapping back at her. "Narcissa-"

"For better or for worse," Her lips were still curled; the corners pulled up, but she could feel the faux pleasantness disintegrating like it was touched by acid. "That was the vow we made, for better or for worse. You're my husband, Lucius. I promised you then as I do now that I will always be by your side through anything. Every choice, every decision. But I want to make myself clear on one thing." She walked slowly over to him, each careful step a companion for every venom-laced word that dripped from her lips. "As much as I care for you, as much as I love you, I love my sons even more. And I will do anything to protect them. So, if any harm should come to them, if either one of my boys gets hurt because of a choice you made, then you won't be worrying about Dark Lord's wrath, my love. You'll be fearing my own."

Lucius glared up at her as if she were an opponent he was facing in an intense match of Wizard's chess, trapping him in a very tight position, looking for a crack to escape through. Finding none, he broke his gaze, looking away.

Narcissa spun on her heel and retreated to the door. She was halfway across the room until his words caught her, brushing against her skin like a cold caress.

"Tell me, love," he said. "When your _dear_  sister pays us a visit, will you still keep that heartwarming, feministic hymn?"

For a split second, a ripple of cold, crippling fear shot through her body, twisting the muscles in her stomach into a tangled knot.

Clenching her teeth so tightly, the crowning cracked under pressure, she took in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and made her way out.


	42. Withering the Storm

_He was back in the maze again, cloaked in near pitch blackness that surrounded him. With only faint traces of light to see his own hands and his panting breath coming out in hefty clouds, he ran like hell. Not towards glory, not for the trophy. No, he was running for his life._

_Creatures came out to meet him. Not the creatures he saw on the pages of the Monster book like sphinxes and hybrid spiders or dementors but images. Images emerging from the blackness, flashing through the darkness, conjured by fear, by memories, or by both._

_Sirius surrounded by Dementors, hands grasped onto his head, mouth open to let out wordless screams as he sank to the ground, too week to fight back as the monsters closed in on him._

_Ron inaudibly gasping, blood pouring from his gut, bubbling in his mouth, as a snickering Wormtail dug his newly-gifted hand through the boy's abdomen._

_Hermione screaming in agony as she was picked apart by Death Eaters dissecting her like a frog, relishing in her cries and screeches._

_He tried to save her. He tried to save all of them. But each time he came close, they vanished._

_Distressed, he ran, only to come across more images._

_His dad appearing out of nowhere, running as frantically as Harry one second, then dropping dead the next._

_Cedric toppling backwards as he was stuck by a flash of bright green light, then turning into Mum as she hit the ground, her horrible shrieking crescendo ending on a high note, streams of red as bright as her hair pooled around her._

_Severus down on his knees, cradling her limp body, one side of his face buried in her hair, the other coated in sterling silver._

_Harry staggered back, and then nearly suffered whiplash when a hand grasped onto him, turning him around. Vivid gray eyes, glinting like starlight, burnt into him._

_Draco._

_Before Harry could speak, warm lips crashed into him, sending him down a delicious, intoxicating downward spiral. The more he fell, the more the pleasure grew. Draco's hands and lips were everywhere, resisting to let a spot go unmarked: his face, his neck, his shoulders, anywhere he could touch. Hundreds of soft, warm hands touching him, holding him, caressing him. In a blindingly bright pure white color from what Harry could make out in the brief moments he opened his eyes before he was sucked down the rabbit hole. Pure white hands closing around him like a cocoon._

_Until it was ripped away._

_Horrified, Harry opened his eyes to find Draco standing across from him, held captive by his father who was oblivious to his son's pained cries as he clawed the Dark Mark onto his arm._

_Uncle Lucius spared Harry a flat glance, one given to a stranger instead of a ward, as the silver mask formed over his face and he retreated into the shadows, taking Draco with him._

" _No!_ " Harry screamed, shooting up from his bed with a jolt.

It took nearly forever for his heart to slow down from a rapid pace to a normal one. Even longer for his mind to unscramble dream from reality, eyes picking up small details. The heap of clothes spilling his from his closet, hanging from his drawers, packages and letters pilling up on his desk, his stuffed dog Scuffy that must have fallen off the bed during his episode, and the faded blue color of his walls.

He was in Grimmauld Place. He wasn't in the maze anymore. He was safe.

_For now_ , a voice whispered.

A chill flashed through him. Harry took in a deep breath and crawled to the other side of the bed, where a lukewarm glass of water waited for him at his nightstand. He barely grimaced at the distill taste when he gulped it down.

It was when he put down the glass that he heard a scream.

"' _A complicated matter, my ass!_ ' Code for, I know how much I screwed up but I don't have the balls to admit it!"

"Sirius, calm down!"

Harry climbed off the bed and crept down the hall, stopping midway on the staircase. He saw their shadows in the parlor room, one pacing around, the other sitting down, just as he left them hours ago after a painfully-awkward, silent dinner.

"Calm down?" Sirius echoed. " _Calm down?!_  After the Ministry and the fucking  _Daily Prophet_  make a field day of what happened, turning it into a new edition of the  _Boy Who Cried Wolf._  After finding out the pet to the devil has been at Hogwarts for a year- _a whole year_ -right under Dumbledore's nose! And now Dumbledore is having us run around, saying be patient, be patient. If I have to hear those words one more time-"

"Sirius!" Remus broke down his name into three, frustrated-laced syllables. Harry watched his shadow rise from the chair, stalking over to the pacing figure. "Dumbledore is under just as much fire as the rest of us-"

"Harry is traumatized to the point where we can barely reach him-none of us can. And it's all because of Dumbledore."

"This isn't his fault!" Remus argued.

Harry watched one shadow pushed the other away. A shove so hard that the other one stumbled on his feet.

"Not his fault?" Sirius parroted in disbelief. "Not his fault? How long has he known Moody, Moony? Please humor me. Ten years? Fifteen years? Twenty? I'd say that's long enough for someone to know the difference between an original with a few, unusual ticks and a  _goddamn imposter!_ "

"I know. And I'm just as furi-"

" Oh please! Don't make me laugh!" Sirius snapped.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Really? Shall I spell it out for you while ironing your Team-Dumbledore shirt?"

A growl thundered in the room, taking Harry back. Sirius, from his stilled shadow and sudden silence, definitely was.

"Don't you dare think for one second that I'm not as furious about all this as you are because I damn well am! Harry's my pup. My pup! Who's been through hell on a continuous loop. And this time…" There was a pause before Remus spoke again, pain heavy on his tone. "This time I fear this trip may have severely strained him."

"You don't think I know that?" Sirius demanded.

"If you did, you would consider my proposal-"

"I'm sorry, you mean your harebrained scheme of wheeling Harry off to some quake who'll magically fix his problems with some potions and breathing techniques?"

_Therapy?_  Harry's brows furrowed. He hadn't heard anything about that.

"He needs to talk to someone, Paddy. He hardly talks to us, to his friends. Even Severus is worried-"

Sirius cut him off with a snort. "Right, our now reformed Death Eater spy. You'll forgive me if I'd sooner believe Mother Dearest is smiling down at me than-"

"You may not understand the limits how far grief can drive a person, but I most certainly do!"

The words stopped Sirius cold just as they did with Harry, grabbing hold of his heart with their icy hands.

"I do," Remus repeated, his voice steel. "And I also know very few who are lucky enough to have someone bring them back before they reach the point of the no return."

Harry shivered as an image of a young Remus popped into his head, so scared and in so much pain, on the Astronomy Tower roof, shaking as he stuck one foot out, prepared to jump.

"I…I know. I know. I just…" Harry pictured Sirius's hands running through his hair as he struggled to unscramble his thoughts. "I don't even know if therapy will help. I don't think anything will. And it scares me. Harry's just-just-dear Merlin, Paddy, the word depressed would be a blessing. He's just gone. Like a zombie. His body's here, but his mind is worlds away. He doesn't talk. He barely eats. He's only been outside three, four times max the entire summer. He does more screaming than sleeping at night and it scares me. I just-I don't know what to do. I'm his godfather and I don't have a single clue as to what I should do."

Harry couldn't bear to hear anymore. He retreated back to his room.

He didn't go back to bed though. He didn't bother. He knew he'd just be plague by memories of pale corpses, silver masks, and crimson eyes. He lounged on his couch and stared up at the ceiling.

Every school year ended with a bang. It happened so often, it must have as well be a Hogwarts tradition. There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind, least of all Harry's, that fourth year took home first prize as most unforgettable.

Cedric's death left the entire school, even the visiting ones, shook to the core. For most of the students, death was a dark thought often shoved aside, too soon to be given much thought. Some who experienced it firsthand were through funerals they were too young to remember or tight-lipped on the details. But it was different when a classmate, someone you were friends with, someone you passed by in the halls was actually died. Someone so young, so kind, so well-loved.

Harry carried that guilt like a heavy cross strapped onto his back, clinging to him like a shadow, following him into his dreams where he saw flashes of green light and Cedric's still form falling over. That moment played over in his head like a sick movie on repeat when Harry passed out in Sirius's arms after he told him about Voldemort.

Harry hardly remembered what happened after that. It was like he was lost in vast sea of blackness, fading in and out of consciousness, seeing glimmers of faces. Sirius and Remus's tight with anxiety, Hermione's streaked with tears, Ron's hopelessly lost, Severus's nearly stone with cracks of concern chipping the mask, and… _his_.

Harry brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to fight off the chilled shuddering rippling through his body.

Oddly enough it was the same  _his_ , the same him who promised Harry the first time he was lost in the despairing sea that he'd never have him go through it alone, who discovered the real spy and traitor hiding in the castle.

Harry hardly stirred from his deep, restless sleep other than to recount to his friends and Dumbledore in a hollow, flat voice almost everything that happened in the cemetery. Most of the time he was floating around the dark depths of bone, mind-numbing exhaustion.

Moody came into the hospital wing when Madame Pomfey had to step out, his wand glowing bright green and aimed right at Harry's head.

"I'll prove the master my loyalty. I'll prove him my worth!" Harry choked on the dark magic thickening the air, pressing down on his neck. Bewildered and trapped, he looked up to see the former Auror's appearance changing. He could see madness starting to break through the usually stoic face. "And I'll do it with your head!"

What neither of them had expected was Draco. Flashing in a blur of white after he came out of the loo, pouncing onto the man like a wild cat, practically tearing him apart with his fists and sharp hands.

Then Sirius burst in, along with Dumbledore and Severus to watch the transformation unfold-or rather reverse. Moody, face marred with nasty bruises, slashed with thick cuts (a good percentage of which came from Draco while Sirius threw in a few of his) turned into Crouch's disgraced, discarded, long-dead son. Bartemius Crouch Jr.

As it turned out, Crouch Jr didn't die after all. He nearly did, due to the torture he went through at Azkaban. He was able to escape thanks to a faithful house-elf. By the time he escaped, his loyalties were pledged to Voldemort. If the world, including his own father, thought he was a traitor, he might as well be one. He caught up with Pettigrew weeks after the man made his own escape and helped him care for their master.

The three spent that time conjuring a plan for Voldemort to be restored to his full strength and get away Harry away from Dumbledore. When word came that Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament, it was like fate was working alongside with them. Now all they needed was a spy to plant himself in and ensure the plan went accordingly. Crouch Jr. offered his services as a spy. He spent months stalking Moody to learn the man's personality and mannerisms till his mimicking was down to a T. Once that was done, he kidnapped him, stripping Moody of his wand and keeping him close as his prisoner so he'd never run out of hair fragments for the Polyjuice potion, which explained the missing Potion ingredients.

It also explained Crouch's distress, his strange disappearances. And also explained how Harry's name was added to the cup in the first place. Crouch Jr added a special charm to the entry to ensure that the goblet would chose Harry, knowing could get the boy out of the tournament besides death. The night before the third task, he came down to create the portkey inside the trophy, so that the second Harry touched it, he'd be delivered straight to Pettigrew and the Dark Lord.

"Why?" Dumbledore demanded.

Eyes glazed over from the Veritaserum Severus shoved down his throat, the imposter answered with ease, "The Dark Lord needed the boy, but the boy was always protected. Concealed. The tournament was the only way to draw him out, to bring him to the cemetery."

Silence hung heavily in the room.

Despite the fact he was heavil bounded from the neck down to his knees, the fact he had been stripped of his wand, the bruises marked onto and the secrets he spilled, Bartemus Junior looked unsettlingly pleased. He wore the smirk of a man who already won as he looked over at Dumbledore. "What's the matter, old man? The blame for that Hufflepuff getting to you?" He licked his lips in rapid movement, flicking out his tongue.

"Young Cedric's death is on you, Bartemus," Dumbledore replied. "The portkey you implanted is what led to his death."

"And yet," the man practically sang. "Imagine what could have been if more eyes were of them. The wonders of security truly go a long way, Albus." The way the name rolled off his tongue, was almost a taunting slur. "It's just as much your fault as it is mine. If you had done something, pure better security around the maze, then you wouldn't be one short a student." Another flick of his tongue, droplets of saliva flickering onto his face. "As it is, it was your ego, your silence, your lack of involvement that ruined me, ruined your precious Potter, and most certainly ruined that soft-hearted Hufflepuff."

Harry flinched, the words a hard punch to his gut. Sirius had to be held back from ripping out the man's throat.

Dumbledore called for Hagrid and McGonagall to look over the bound captive while he wrote an urgent letter to Minister Fudge. By the time he arrived, McGonagall and Hagrid were found unconscious, both their heads sporting nasty bumps. Crouch Jr. was free from his bounds; his body slumped on the ground at a crooked angle, streaks of blood dripping from his slit throat, eyes widened in shock and pain.

Harry was fuzzy on the details. He remembered chaos descending: screaming between Dumbledore and Fudge, Remus making a feeble attempt to resuscitate the man, Hagrid beating against Crouch's chest as if he could get answers out of him. But it was too late. He was gone.

Harry let the questions, the voiced concerns, the hugs slide off him and walked back to the Infirmary, slipping into his bed. He ignored the footsteps trailing behind him.

Just as he ignored Dumbledore.

"Harry?"

"Leave." he ordered, eyes focused on the wall.

"My boy-"

" _Now!_ "

A long heartbeat passed before he heard him leave. Even then Harry didn't relax, not when he felt a familiar hand reaching for his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Harry." The touch was meant to be comforting; Harry could tell. Still, he couldn't relax into it like he usually did. Not when memories of white-blonde hair, pale eyes, and a silver mask spun around in his head.

Heart heavy and twisted, Harry pulled away. And the silent, pained gasp that set off behind cut him deeper than any knife.

"I need to be alone," he whispered, his throat tight.

"Harry-"

"Please." He closed his eyes to hold in his tears trying to escape.

Shock tightened Draco's body like an over-tuned violin. Slowly, Draco shifted away inch by inch until he was off the bed. Harry kept his eyes closed as the door softly shut and his tattered heart was spilt in two.

Harry reached over for the Dreamless Draught Madame Pomfey left on the nightstand and chugged the potion down in one swig, falling into a deep sleep where the demons were kept in their cages.

Hours later, Harry woke up to the soft touch of Sirius stroking his hair. Paddy's lips lifted up into a smile, but then disintegrated as he took in Harry's face.

"Tell me what you want to do," Sirius said. "Whatever it is, I'll be right behind you."

"I want to go to Grimmauld Place." Harry said.

Sirius made it happen. There were hardly any buts to stop him. Not from Fudge, who despite everything, thought it was a fine idea. Not from Dumbledore. Not from Aunt Cissa. Unlike last time, Draco didn't put up a fight or refusals, but the look of absolute hurt in his eyes said enough.

Sirius tried to make things fun and light. Remus tried to distract him with books. His friends reached out, wanting to help. But Harry…he just couldn't. Memories of Halloween night, the cemetery, Cedric dying, the blond-haired masked man, and Draco's face twisted in confusion and pain were too heavy to move past, too thick to push aside, stuck to him like shadows. He couldn't shake them. He couldn't lose himself in flying; couldn't lost himself in reading.

Somehow though he eased a bit of the heavy weight by pouring all of the thoughts jumbled up and piled in his head and his conflicted feelings onto the pages of his journals. At first it was only a few sentences here and there, expanding into paragraphs, extending to pages. The next thing he knew, he filled up one journal, then another, and had to ask Remus for more.

They were in the middle of August and Harry was already halfway through journal twelve. Remus and Sirius were good about leaving him alone with his thoughts, happy to see him do something productive. Still he added special privacy charms to the journals, where his fingerprints were required to unlock it and his magical signature was needed for the words to surface on the pages.

Writing was therapy in its own way where he was the patient and the journal was his doctor. No judgement, no expectations. As soon as he turned the book over to a blank page, it listened to every word he said. How Cedric's death was consuming him inside out because of the guilt, his feelings for Draco and he was caught in a tie between telling his boy everything and nothing, his doubts and sympathies regarding Severus, and a question that had been written in every journal, nearly every other page, circling around his mind.

Should have he told everyone about the strange Death-eater? His suspicions on who it could be?

Harry told them as much as he could about. How they were taken to the cemetery, Cedric killed without a care, the ritual Pettigrew performed, the hooded figures who answered Voldemort's call, and the duel that happened between them.

He told them everything-all except the mysterious Death Eater who was given a harsh warning from his master, who kept silent while the rest of them laugh, who studied Harry with his pale eyes while strands of blonde hair escaped from his hood.

It's been weeks but Harry's mind could barely process it. He couldn't stomach the thought.

Uncle Lucius, a Death Eater? A minion to Voldemort's beck and call?

He didn't want to believe it. He didn't even want to picture it. He tried pushing the thought out of his mind, but it was as if fighting gave the thoughts strength to stay. With them came facts, small details his subconscious refused to let go. Like the fact Lucius made it no secret that he thought Muggles and Muggle-born alike were swine. That he thought the increased migration of Muggle-borns were the cause to the declining regard to tradition, which he felt were the backbone of the wizarding world. Most Voldemort's beliefs were too similar to the ones he seemed to favor. And…it would explain other things. Dumbledore's shock when he found out Aunt Cissa was picked as his other legal guardian; both his and Fudge's skepticism over Harry being at the manor; Sirius's hostility towards them.

Was it because they all suspected that Voldemort was always right near Harry?

And what if they were right? What if all along there wasn't one spy but two close by him? But it still didn't add up. Did that mean it was all just an act then, a ploy to get closer to the Potters? If so, why wait? Why not hand Harry over to Voldemort the second Severus took him to the manor? Or after his wife was granted custody over the Boy Who Lived? Or even during the summers, where he was far from Dumbledore's reach? Lucius had so many opportunities to give Voldemort what he wanted. Plenty of opportunities to finish the job himself. And still nothing.

So then what if they was wrong? What if Harry's fear was over nothing? After all, blonde hair wasn't an uncommon hair color. The paleness of his eyes could have been a trick of light. And tying the man's appearance to Lucius's lack-of was too much of a coincidence. Lucius never before that day gave Harry any reason to doubt him. If memory served right, he was quite impressed with his mum; Lily Potter had to be the only other woman besides Aunt Cissa who handled Lucius's "wit" and gave it right back. He treated Harry the same as he treated Draco, never making him feel like an outsider but as an additional member of the family.

Harry, though, couldn't quiet the chirping "What if?" voice in the back of his head.

He tried listening to his gut, but since the third task, it had been twisted and turned into so many knots that he no longer had that guide.

Harry rubbed his temples to stop the wild spinning going on in his head, but it didn't stop his brain from thinking.

That was certainly one reason why he didn't tell them about the Death Eater. The other reason was Draco.

Grief and longing so intense he took in a sharp breath grabbed hold of Harry's heart, ripping it at the seams.

Harry wanted more than anything to see him. He wanted them to go back to their little house in Italy where nothing could get to them. He wanted to apologize for so many weeks of radio silence. He was tempted to use the Floo to get to the Malfoy manor or the Veela camp, throw himself at Draco, and just stay there, in his arms forever. To lost himself in the sweet taste of his lips; the utter bliss that wiped anything unimportant from their minds. When they were alone at the infirmary, he just wanted to close the gap between them.

But the sight of blonde hair framed around a silver Death Eater's mask kept Harry's head and eyes strictly focused on the wall, forming his body into a ball, widening the gap.

The two rarely hid anything from each other. Draco was always the first to know if something was amiss. He knew almost all of Harry's secrets, but this was one secret he didn't dare share.

Draco worshiped his father, the model image of what Draco inspired to be. He spent most of their lives doing everything he could to make Lucius proud. He hexed anyone who dared breath a bad word about Lucius. Every word, every lesson Lucius taught, Draco held in high regard like it was the sacred word.

Draco would think Harry mad if he told him about what he saw at the cemetery. Mediate Harry himself till he started seeing the light. Or worse…turn away from him.

Harry dealt with dark wizards, hexes, dark and shocking secrets, but Draco leaving him, forever shutting him out was the one thing that would destroy him.

Sighing, Harry got up from the chair to walk over to the desk where mountains of letters were so high; a single puff of air could easily cause an avalanche. He grabbed the latest one that came today, postmarked from France.

He stared at the envelope for a second or two before he broke the seal.

_My dearest, old friend…_

_You are so so_ _**sooooooooooooo** _ _lucky that there's only so much ink and paper for me or Merlin help me, Potter, I'd have fifty full-length pages worth of curses screaming at you._

The words were so Draco-like; a smile almost touched Harry's face until he read on.

_I'll skip over to the part where I detest, loathe, and am FURIOUS with the radio silence-and no, not even the birthday gift you sent me makes up for it. You of all people should know that I hate being ignored. But what really irks me more is the fact you refuse to let me in._

_And it hurt. When you told me to go away, I think a punch in the face would have been kinder._

_However, I am as stubborn as I am quick-tempered. I told you this before, Potter, and I'll say it again. I won't let you go through the darkness alone. You hear me? I WON'T! I refuse. And the more the silence goes on, the more furious I'll be when we see each other._

_You're my best friend, Harry. As stubborn (and that is something coming from me), impulsive, and moronic you can be, you're my best friend. My boy, my other half. Nothing can and nothing ever will change that._

_-Draco_

Harry didn't realize the tears escaped from their cages until drops fell on the paper, smudging the ink.

Nothing could ruin their friendship, he said. Nothing will ever change that. Except maybe a dark secret.

* * *

Days later, a surprise arrived at the living room, popping from the fireplace and nearly stumbling on the floor. More than several surprises actually. One, the largest of the surprises, was a group of bright-haired redheads. Another was a tall, dark-skinned man in dark blue tubes accompanied by a younger, smiling young woman who looked like she just graduated from Hogwarts.

All at once, busy light-brown hair obscured his vision, wads of it getting into his mouth. It took awhile to realize that Hermione was holding him, squeezing him so tightly he felt bruises forming on his skin.

"Oh, Harry, I was so worried about!"

"Hermione," he wheezed, patting her back. "Can't-breathe."

"Oh. Sorry."

Harry tried to pass off a smile but it must have come off more as a grimace, given the way everyone flinched or looked away.

"Glad to see you're alright, mate." Ron smiled.

"Me too." Fred grinned.

"Me three." George slung around Ginny and brought her close to him. "Being here, seeing you, means a sweet, beautiful end to Ginny's nonstop whining and moaning over you." His voice went up a high, shrilled octave. "' _Oh Merlin, do you think Harry's alright?_ '"

"' _Do you think I should owl him?_ '" Ron added. "' _No, wait, that might be weird_.'"

"' _No!_ " Fred said. '" _I should see him_.'"

"Shut up!" A flustered Ginny pushed her brother away.

"You have to admit, Gin," Ron said, barely holding onto his snickering. "You've been moping around the house the whole summer. You're almost as bad as 'Mione."

Hermione's hand kissed the back of his head.

" _Ow!_ "

"If you all are done," The finality in Mrs. Weasley's called for a seize fire. The twins let out a few more snickers. Ginny whacked Ron in the arm for extra measure.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you." Harry's attention was turned over to the young woman. He was taken back by the brightness of her smile. Or her short hair that changed from chestnut brown to lily pink. "I've been so- _ooof!_ "

The girl was so caught in her excitement that she didn't notice her footing, tripping over her foot, falling flat and hard on her face.

"Tonks!" Mrs. Weasley cried in alarm.

"Down she goes," the man in blue joked.

"Kinglsey!"

"I'm alright, I'm okay." The young woman hopped back onto her feet and dusted herself off. "Safe to say dancing was never my calling. Lack the graceful gene." She blinked. "And the coordination one."

"Well, you certainly have the passion." Remus remarked.

"Mind telling that to my two left feet." She smiled, her cheeks flushed in pink.

Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry, grinning over at the girl. "Harry, I'd like to meet the wacky daughter of the only other family member I have who doesn't have a stick up their arse, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Don't call me Nymphadora! You know I hate that." Catching Harry's eye, she shuddered. 'It's too formal, especially for family. Call me Dora. Or Tonks. Whatever tickles your fancy."

Harry shook her offered hand, but couldn't hide the confusion that was clear on his face. "Family?"

"Yes-well, sort of," Tonks answered. "Sirius and Mum-Andromeda, charming woman, also eager to meet you-are cousins. You're his godson, I'm his niece-kind of. We're practically cousins in our way, which makes us family."

Harry tried to rake his mind on a Tonks, but before he could sink deeper, he was yanked into another tight hug.

"I can't tell you how long I've been wanting to do this!" she squealed.

"It shows," he grunted. She released him with a giggle. Though his ribs bruised a bit from the hug, Harry couldn't stop the smile curling his mouth.

As it turned out, their surprise visit wasn't just for family reunions or for fun, even though both Ron and Hermione told him they've been dying to see him since they separated at Platform 9 ¾. It was part of it, but there was more. Their visit was also for business regarding the Order of the Phoenix.

An organization Dumbledore founded during the early days of Voldemort's empire, consisted of courageous wizards both Auror and non-Auror willing against Death Eaters. Members from Moody, the real Moody who made his fury over his kidnapping loud and clear, Arthur and Molly, Sirius and Remus, his parents and Neville's, even cowardly Pettigrew who unsurprisingly preferred being behind the scenes than on the front line.

Dumbledore reformed the group shortly after fourth year ended. A good but still underwhelming amount of members answered the call. They spent the summer searching for any sign of Voldermort, traces of dark magic, and to clear Harry's name as being the ridiculed Boy Who Cried Wolf the press and even the Ministry were making him out to be. Problem was the Wizarding World was spilt in a high tense division with a portion believing the Dark Lord's return, the other (more than half) believing it was nothing more than a rumor.

Sadly everyday more and more of those in the believing side were crossing over to the other one, thanks to the Ministry's lack of involvement, Skeeter's and the press's ridiculous imagination, and Fudge's fixated, delusional belief that Harry was making it all up. All of which were causing problems not only for Harry but also for the Order who were losing more members because of it.

Which was why Sirius thought it was high time to lower the age requirement Dumbledore enforced, so new members could enter. A proposal he brought up during dinner.

One which Mrs. Weasley immediately shot down.

" _Absolutely not!_ " she declared, face bright red, shooting up from her chair. "Completely out of the question!"

Across the dining table, Sirius drew up a sharp brow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the one who's been bemoaning to anyone and everyone with ears that we need more members? And would you look at that?" He gestured towards Harry and his friends. "We have a table full of possible recruits."

"I," George said. "would just like to take the moment to admire the fact we've spent a month trying to get answers from you and yet nothing."

"' _You're too young, you're not in the order_ ,'" said Fred in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. He scoffed. "At least someone knows we're capable."

"And should be included." George added.

"This has nothing to do with capability! It has to do with age. There's a time and a place for everything, something you two have yet to grasp. Just as you," She whirled over to Sirius. "have yet to grasp that very same understanding. It isn't up to you to decide what's good for Harry."

"Really?" Sirius arched an brow, his face incredulous. "I'm pretty sure deciding what a kiddo should and shouldn't know is one of the perks to being a legal guardian."

Her normally-kind face looked dangerous; mouth drew to a thin line, eyes hard. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, have you?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an chilled air as though he was preparing himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he  _needs to know_ ," said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George's heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Remus's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he  _needs to know_ , Molly," said Sirius. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he has more right than most to-"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" said Mrs. Weasley. "He's only fifteen and-"

"-and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Sirius. "more than some-"

"No one's denying what's he's done!" said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising. "But he's still too young. He's just a boy!"

"He's not a child!" It was the first time Sirius managed to get the words out without falter.

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs. Weasley, color rising in her cheeks. "He's not  _James_ , Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly aware he isn't, thank you, Molly." Sirius said coldly.

"I'm not sure you do! Sometimes the way you talk about him, it's as though you've got your best friend back!"

Harry jumped into Sirius's defense, feeling the man's restraint about to snap. "Mrs. Weasley, it's like that at all-"

"May not appear to you that way, dear, but it looks that way from my perspective."

"You may want to see an ophthalmologist about that," Sirius's lips curled into a cool smile. "Or a shrink to help you with the delirium."

Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to strangle him. Her eyes darted back to her husband who was fumbling with his tie and over Remus who met her gaze.

"Well," She choked out the word when no one came to her aid. "Well…I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll say this. Dumbledore must have had his reasons-"

"The fact you still trust and hold his judgment on such a high pedestal-despite all that's been done right  _under his nose_!" Sirius stressed. "Speaks volumes, Molly, and I do mean volumes!"

"Dumbledore is only human," she argued. "And people make mistakes."

"Hilarious how certain people's mistakes are swept under the rug while others have theirs held over their heads."

Mrs. Weasley scowled at him, her flushed face almost as bright as her hair. "I'm simply speaking as someone who has Harry's best interest at heart."

"And that's somehow you?" Sirius demanded. "He's not your son!"

"He's as good as!" Mrs. Weasley said.

" _And I'm the goddamn queen of Sheba!_ " Sirius yelled, banging his hands on the table as he shot up from his chair.

Mrs. Weasley's lip curled. "Can't blame me for questioning your judgment. Or your mentality since you spent-how long again? Six years living the dog's hard life and all?"

" _That's it!_ " Sirius charged forward.

Remus grabbed him by the arm before he made the leap, using all his strength to keep him in place. "Molly," he said sharply, fixing her with a hard stare. "You're not the only one at this table who cares about Harry!" He looked at Sirius, tugging his arm once more. "Sirius. Kitchen. Now."

Sirius shrugged off his hold and surprisingly obliged with little fuss. Remus followed closely behind him. Before Sirius left, he looked his shoulder to deliver a glare to Mrs. Weasley.

"I now see where your son," He jerked a thumb over to Ron. "gets his charm from. And his two-faced, arrogant lack of spine."

Remus yanked him away and practically shoved him out of the room. It was only then everyone else seemed to snap out of their daze, thrust back into reality, their voices loud and clashing over each other.

So engrossed in their arguing, no one noticed Harry who slipped away from the kitchen table, tiptoed quietly over to the kitchen, and pressed his ear against the door.

"He's my godson." Sirius snarled.

"I know." Remus replied.

"No, you don't. You were there for the full ride. I missed six years." Anger cracked into anguish. "He's my godson. Not Dumbledore's! Not Molly's! Not Snape's! Mine…"

Silence rang so loudly in that room like thunder, but Harry could have sworn he caught a lining of choked-up, barely-suppressed crying.

As soon as he caught it, Harry pulled away from the door.


	43. Breaking Point, Binding Bond

Harry had no idea how long he'd been in the shower. Could have been a few minutes, maybe even close to an hour-or more. What he did know was that it was longer than just awhile.

Long enough for the piping hot water he turned on full blast to cool to lukewarm.

Long enough for him to lose track of the number of lines on the tilted walls he counted as he scrubbed his skin raw.

Long enough to lost feeling in both legs that were folded underneath him.

But if there was one thing he did know, it was the reason why he was in the shower in the first place.

Another nightmare.

In the dream, it was like he was in the basilisk lair, the same place where he barely managed to escape with Ginny-and his neck. Only this time the place was covered with mirrors, full-length crystal mirrors that surrounded him like a glass cage, where his reflection stared back at him with frantic eyes at almost every angle. With Tom Riddle standing across from him.

" _We're not so different," Riddle said, his voice smooth as silk. The dark color of his robes making his pale skin that much whiter. His raven hair messy; frame lean and tall, still towering over Harry by a few inches. "you and I."_

_Their features were altered in each of the mirrors, curving it into angles, shrinking them down, blending them together, making them look deformed. In every one of them, the pleasant smile on Riddle's face was sharp in dark glee. However none compared to the actual smile the real Riddle gave him._

_Anger swelled inside Harry at the sight of that smile, the same one used when he tortured him. Harry wished he had his wand-or a hammer. Anything that could smash that smile. "I'm_ nothing  _like you!"_

_Riddle's lips sloped into a frown, almost as though Harry disappointed him. Until his lips quickly shaped back into its amused smile. "There are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed." His smile sharpened like a knife. "Two half-blood orphans abandoned by our parents!"_

_Red bleed into his vision. "The difference between us is that yours chose to. My didn't."_

" _The core of our wands made from the same phoenix's feather." Riddle's skin began to wither as if it were a fruit rotting from the inside out, paling to skeleton-white with the veins of his face prominently blue._

_Harry remembered how Ollivander examined him skeptically as he explained the significance of the phoenix feather; the odd irony that the magical core used in his wand was the same one that gave him his scar._

_Slashes began to sprout along Riddle's face, his skin peeling away, unraveling like ribbons."Fluid in the language of Parseltongue. An undeniable attraction to the lure of darkness."_

" _Shut. Up!" Harry's magic began to hum, pulsing in his veins. It buzzed around him, hummed in his tight fists like static, growing in power._

" _Leaders to a group of simple-minded wizards who yet to realize the possibilities of how this world can be reshaped."_

_If his magic was a song, it would be the solo of a soprano opera singer reaching the high climax of the song, the intensity growing, and the humming loudening._

" _Outcasts," Riddle purred. "Even in our world. Strangers among our wizarding brothers. Freaks in human skin."_

" _SHUT. UP!" Harry screamed, his magic reaching its peak-_

_The mirrors exploded as if boulders of rock were thrown against them, shattering their reflections, creating a shower of raining glass Harry barely dodged. A slash across his neck; sharp fragments planted into his legs, bringing him down to the ground. Pieces piercing his palms, his arms, unleashing ribbons of crimson._

_After what seemed like an eternity, just when Harry was sure he was going to be shredded into pieces, the glass stopped. He took in a breath, then another, listening. Silence hung heavily over the room like a curtain. Harry slowly lowered his arm he used as a shield to protect his face from the glass shower and looked around._

_The mirrors were completely destroyed, the shard pieces shattered all over the floor. Riddle was gone, his fleshly remains left behind in his place._

What the- _Harry's thoughts came to a halt as he yanked onto his feet by sharp tug of his hair._

_Lord Voldemort in his skeleton-frame, crimson-eyed form smiled down at him as he pulled Harry's back to his chest, his hands wrapped around Harry's head and neck in a tight embrace._

" _We also have another thing in common, Potter."_

_The corners of the dark room were knocked down, one by one, like walls to reveal the cemetery, the same cemetery Harry and Cedric were taken to. Bodies littered the ground like discarded leaves. So many bodies._

_Harry's screams, gasps, cries were tangled together into a thick ball wedged in his throat._

_Dad, Mum, along with Cedric. Sirius and Remus. Severus. Narcissa. Blaise, Pansy, Theo. Ron and Hermione. And Draco. All of them dead._

" _No…" Harry croaked, his eyes jumping over from Mum sprawled in a sea of blood, Sirius whose mouth was open wide as if he were screaming, Severus with his neck was marred with scars, and Draco whose hollow eyes were locked on Harry. "No…"_

_Voldemort's hold tightened to the point of suffocation. Pure delight rang in his voice. "We destroy_ everything _we touch."_

The dream didn't only knock Harry back into heart-pounding, blood-rushing reality, but made him screamed so loudly that his vocal chords ached.

If that wasn't enough, Ron and Hermione were the ones who had to pull him back.

"Harry! Harry!" He could make out Hermione's panicked cries as he struggled to break through the surface. "Harry, can you hear?"

"Come on, mate!" Ron pleaded.

Harry finally broke, sucking in gulps of air like he'd been held underwater for ages. He barely managed to dodge questions before he escaped to the bathroom, practically ripping off his sweaty pajamas as if they were covered in gasoline and getting into the shower, setting the water to scolding hot.

And here he was minutes later, huddled in the shower, like a scared little kid.

Harry ran his stiff-frozen hands over his face and sighed.

It's been weeks since that horrible night. Between then and now, hardly anyone was talking about Voldemort's reappearance, convinced it was the delusional thoughts of a deranged boy, despite the fact the number of missing people-wizards, witches, even Muggles-were slowly but steadily rising. Dumbledore kept urging the Order and Harry to be patient, but has been tight-lipped and distant regarding his own plans. Not a word or sighting of Voldemort, and yet the man was still here, lurking in the back of Harry's wand, haunting him along with Cedric's ghost that continued to stare at Harry with those hollow eyes.

_Why did I die,_  those eyes asked.  _Why did I have to die for you?_

Sometimes future victims, Hermione and Ron, Sirius or Draco, would stand beside him, giving Harry that same look. Sometimes even his own parents.

Shivering, Harry held himself tighter.

He told Mrs. Weasley and Sirius that he was ready. That he could handle anything. But he at the moment he didn't think that he could. He didn't feel ready. He didn't feel brave.

He felt like the thing he always hated being: a scared, helpless child.

~…~

Tension ran high over the Grimmauld Place over the next couple of days. Tension between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, who acted civil towards each other for the most part but still held the other at arm's length (particularly Sirius), still remembering what was said from that horrible dinner. Tension between Sirius and Remus, who was caught in the middle of their fight and his own fight with Sirius over what was the best for Harry. Tension between Ron, his brothers, and Molly, who refused to let them join the order, Sirius Black's opinion be damned. Even tension between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Maybe tension was the wrong word to use. Anxious seemed better; it was the perfect word to describe their behavior. They were anxious around him, acting like Harry was a skittish cat that needed to be handled properly but were unsure of the right route to take. Both of them tried stifling their excitement when their Gryffindor Prefect pins came in via and Harry's didn't, despite Hermione's firm belief they would all be one fifth year. The way they watched him as he declined another game of Quidditch, preferring just to be inside alone. The unsettling, unworried look in their eyes whenever they had to wake him up from his nightmares.

Harry knew it was only a matter of time before one of them broke the stifling silence to pepper him with questions.

Less than two weeks into the new school year, after Mrs. Weasley and Remus took them out for all-day school shopping trip, the silence was finally broken. Hermione and Ron were his shadows as he escaped into his room after dinner. The second the door was closed, the long awaited question was fired at him.

"What happened at the graveyard?"

Harry blinked once, twice, before he turned over to Ron standing by the door, Hermione off by the center of the room with her arms folded across her chest. Harry's eyes flickered between her and Ron.

"I already told what happened." Harry answered back calmly.

"No," Ron said with a frown. "You didn't. Not everything."

"Yes, I did-"

"Everytime you gave your story, you hesitated when you told them what you saw." Hermione beat him to it before he could protest. "I was there, Harry. Plus, I know you. I saw the way your eyes looked away from Dumbledore when he asked you who else was at the graveyeard. You had to think over what to say to him. And whatever you had to hold in is eating you up. It's not healthy."

Harry looked away from them, curling his hands into tight fists.

"Whatever it is, Harry," Hermione said, her voice gentle. "You can tell us. We're in this together."

Ron appeared by his other side. "Whatever it is, mate, you can tell us."

Harry glanced back and forth between them, his mind swirling. They've been through a lot together, the four of them. Along with Draco, Ron and Hermione have been there through it all, every mishap, every danger from Quirrell, the basilisk, Petttigrew. Despite the number of times their lives were put in danger, they still stood by him. He trusted them both and yet…

Harry bit his lip. Ron's family harnessed a deep-rooted hatred for the Malfoys that spanned back to decades. Hermione made it clear from day one that she wasn't a fan of Draco. This sort of information was so big, the secret so heavy, Harry was dying to let it out to someone, yet at the same time too crucial that it could be damaging if let out. And as much as he trusted them, he wasn't sure if this was a secret they could keep in. Unless…

A spell Harry picked up from one of the books in the Black library stirred in his mind. "If…I tell you, I need you two to keep an open mind on what I'm gonna say."

"Of course," Hermione nodded.

"And I'll need you to make a vow to me."

"Of course, mate," Ron clasped Harry's shoulder. 'We promise we'll-"

"No," Harry corrected, shaking his head. "I need you to make…the Unbreakable Vow."

Ron's hand slipped off Harry's shoulder, dangling from his arm like a stray noodle. His agape mouth was as wide as Hermione's stunned eyes.

"That's-that's-" Hermione sucked in a deep breath. "That's a powerful spell."

"A powerful, unbreakable sort of spell." Ron said.

"I got that from the name, thanks." Harry snapped.

"Harry, a spell like that is-is extreme," Hermione protested. "Surely, it's-"

"Exactly the right type of spell for the secret I'm about to say," Annoyance pricked his chest when he noticed the skeptical look Ron shared with Hermione, who replied with a shrug. "What I have to say is that important. I wouldn't ask you guys to do this if it wasn't."

Or if he wasn't so scared of the possible truth.

Ron and Hermione looked at him, then at each other, having a long discussion through their eyes. Hermione, after what felt like hours, ended the conversation by stepping forward and sticking her hand out to Harry. Ron followed in suit.

Heart pounding, Harry reached out for their hands, wrists grasping onto each other. Using his other hand, he summoned his wand and used it to tap their entangled hands.

"Do you, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger, swear to me, Harry James Potter, to listen to what I have to say and that whatever I said here never leaves this room. Is never told to anyone else. Not to parents," Harry looked over at Ron. "Or Dumbledore." He directed his glance towards Hermione.

Ron swallowed and recited back. "I, Ronald Weasley, swear to you, Harry James Potter, whatever you have to tell me will never leave this room, and that I won't say anything to anyone."

Hermione took in a deep breath; eyes closed, and opened them. She replied, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear to you, Harry James Potter, that whatever you tell me will never leave this room. And that it will never be told to anyone."

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire, pulsing like a heartbeat, seeping into their skin.

When it was done, Ron took back his hand and stared at it in shock, as if it turned to metal.

"So, that's it?" he asked.

"That's it," Hermione answered, her voice hollow. She was almost as shaken by the spell as Harry was. 'The vow was made and sealed."

Ron looked at Harry. "We did our part. Now it's your turn."

Harry took a seat down by the edge of his bed. Ron joined him there while Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor. Harry released a slow, deep breath that came from the depths of his core.

"After…Cedric…" He could hardly say the boy's name without guilt strangling him. "After he was killed and Pettigrew managed to resuscitate Voldemort, one of the first things he did was call his followers. They came the second the mark changed to red. All of them cloaked, masked, and scared. Except for one." Harry swallowed to ease the tightness of his throat. "He was still and quiet. He was only one who didn't laugh while Voldemort was torturing me…"

Hermione nodded slowly, inclining him to go on.

"Voldemort gave him a warning. He said 'You are hanging by a very thin thread. Ensure that it doesn't snap.' The man bowed his head and then-" Harry swallowed again. "But when he did that, some of his hair that must have been tied back slipped out. Pale white blonde hair."

He heard a sharp intake of breath. He couldn't tell if it was Ron or Hermione. His eyes were focused on the ground.

"And when he stood back up, I saw-I think I may have seen gray eyes-"

" _Malfoy?!_ " Ron bellowed, shocked.

Harry was never more thankful he added a silencing charm to the room, along with a locking spell to the door, before they began the vow. "Not him," Harry corrected. Ron and Hermione gawked at him with wide eyes like he punched them right in the gut. "His father, Lucius."

The gasp that pierced through the air definitely came from Hermione. Ron was up on his feet in an instant, backing away from Harry as if he was diseased, shock and anger swirling in his eyes.

"I knew it!" Ron hissed. "I knew it! My dad was right. Goddamn two-faced snakes is what that family is."

"What the hell happened to keeping an open mind when I told you?" Harry snapped.

"It left the building the second you said you saw the head of that blonde-haired, snot-nosed Prickdome at the graveyard. The Malfoys are the type to get mixed up in a crime and make sure their fingerprints are hidden-"

"That's a whole lot of rud-"

"The hell it isn't-"

"That's why you made us did the vow," Hermione said, her voice cutting through Ron's ranting. Her voice cracked in devastating realization. "This is a secret too big to keep and you didn't trust us to do that."

"No way. Harry, she's kidding, right? Why, that's…that's…" Ron turned over to Harry, waiting for him to dismiss Hermione's words, for him to say that of course, that wasn't it at all. Harry took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze to the ground, remaining silent.

"Are you…are you… _ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!_ " Ron demanded. " _Are you bloody fucking kidding right now, Harry?_  My parents, Remus, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore have been killing themselves for the Order, the Ministry, and you! But you're deciding to keep valuable,  _valuable_ information that could help them because you apparently feel you owe it to some prick who taught you how to make a tie and act like a spoiled twat!"

Rage, shimmering like a current stirring in the calm waters, growing bigger and stronger, boiled over Harry. Through clenched teeth, Harry forced out, "It's not that simple-"

"Oh really?" Ron commented, tone dry as sandpaper. "Let's review. From the start, Dumbledore has been off about them, worried about you being so close to Malfoy. You said so yourself he warned you to keep your distance."

"You'll forgive me if I'm not counting Dumbledore's opinion as the sacred word at the moment."

Ron continued on, as if Harry hadn't spoken. "Sirius clearly can't stand his cousin, lady to that very same family. Not that I blame him. Can't trust anyone someone willing to lay down with the enemy for a couple of jewels."

"She isn't a part of any of this, Ron-"

He just went on. "The whole family, father and son especially, made it no secret that they think anyone who ain't a pureblood isn't worth shite."

"That-" was the one argument Harry couldn't exactly against.

"And for the love of Merlin, Harry, he's a goddamn Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed, as if that final fact should be obvious and solid enough to seal the case."Backstabbing cunningness is in their blood!"

The urge to punch Ron, to throw his whole weight into the hit that he'd be knocked down to the ground was so sudden and great that Harry balled his fists into tight fists and held them to his sides. "Pettigrew was a supposedly brave, fearless Gryffindor," Harry spat out. "who sold out his friends without a second thought. Quirrell was a wise, brilliant Ravenclaw who easily fell into Voldemort's clutches." Each word he said, Harry took a step closer to Ron, causing him to take two steps back. "Lockhart was a brainless idiot even Hufflepuffs were ashamed to call their own."

Ron took one step back and his back slammed against the wall.

Looking him right in the eye, Harry said, "Your sorting, your house has nothing to do with the way you act, the things you do, or the choices you made-not the ones that really count. You're a coward, that's on you. You're an idiot, that's on you. You're a traitor, that's-"

Harry choked back on the rest of that sentence, the words burning his throat like acid.

Ron was shaking, as if his body was alive with emotions struggling to burst out. Harry nearly flinched as Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You may be right about that," She made her voice as gentle as it could be. "But you can't ignore the other facts. The Malfoys are greatly tied to the Dark Arts. They, Draco's father in particular, believe in Voldemort's ideals. Belief is only a step away from supporting. You said so yourself you saw him with your own eyes-"

Harry shrugged off her hand more harshly than he intended. "I said I  _think_  I saw him. I never said I actually did."

"Look, I get it. I understand. They were close to your parents and kind to you, so you feel indebted to them-"

"No, you don't!" Harry had to move away from them before his head exploded. "Neither of you do." He turned back to them. "They weren't just kind to me. They didn't just help me. They raised me. Severus and Narcissa and, yes, even Lucius. They looked out for me. Protected me. They're just as much as my family as you guys are. And…and…"

A memory tugged from the corner of his mind. Days after his parents' funeral, Harry broke down in the staircase as he reached the last step, the grief crushing and agonizing. It was Lucius who found him, clenching onto the railing, ugly gasping sobs tearing through his body like knives. He didn't hug Harry or even touch him. He stood by and waited patiently until the sobs lessened to tears to hand Harry a handkerchief, so he could wipe his face. Then took Harry to the zoo, distracting him with a long afternoon of animals and toys.

He remembered how closely Lucius watched him at the end of the day as Harry ate his ice-cream.

" _You have to be one of the strongest people I know, Harry Potter."_

" _Potter-Malfoy." The correction earned him a slight smile from Lucius. Harry frowned down at his waffle cone, the vanilla-chocolate swirl melting in his hand. "And I don't feel strong. Or brave."_

_Lucius crossed his legs, leaning against the bench. "On the contrary," he said. "Continuing on with life, going about your normal routine after suffering such a tragic loss. Taking it in by measures, moving in our pace in our own ways." He turned to Harry and his smile grew a bit more. "Speaks volumes of the strength you have."_

"And," Harry croaked once he found his voice again. "If I say anything and it turns out I'm wrong, I'll ruin everything."

"But what if you were right," Ron insisted. "What if Lucius really was there? What if he really is part of it?"

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he turned away.

"What about Draco?" Hermione asked, the question a quiet and swift whip against Harry's skin.

Harry whirled over to her. She met his gaze calmly.

"You can't tell us the thought hasn't occurred to you before, Harry." Ron said.

" _Draco would never!_ " Harry exclaimed. "Ever! You don't know him the way I do. Neither one of you!"

Ron moved forward, his mouth shaped into an O to protest. Hermione held up her hand, silencing him.

"You're right," Hermione said, her words soft but firm. "We don't know the Malfoys the way you do. We don't know Draco the way you do. But I know these facts. When I was researching the first Wizarding War, there were speculations over who was served the opposing side. Many that were suspected were purebloods, with the Malfoys being at the very top of the list."

Harry's blood went cold. Hermione went on.

"Dumbledore made mistakes, a lot of mistakes, but there is a reason why he was anxious about you being around the Malfoys."

Hermione took another step closer.

"I may not know Draco as well as you do," she admitted. "In fact I think it's safe to say that no knows him the way you do. And he you." She took another step. "But I do know this. He cares for you as much as he cares for his father. So you need to ask yourself this and really think on it. If it turns out Lucius really is on Voldemort's side, and he's given the choice between you and his father, which side do you think Draco will choose?"

The words were like salt-laced whips lashing thick stripes against his open, bleeding wounds. Like hands that grabbed his heart that was quivering, his stomach that was plunging, and twisted the two into a pretzel, rapidly moving in a sickening loop.

A question that always existed in the back of his mind, hovering around the edges. A question that sliced through his insides like a slow, painful Crucio.

One he refused to think about.

One he had no answer to.

Later on that night, long after everyone was asleep, Harry attempted to write his first letter in months. Yet despite weeks of filling up the pages of his journals of scattered thoughts and fears, it was a struggle to make the quill move across the blank parchment when his mind couldn't form the words to move.

He dipped his quill into the ink jar the first time in a row within the past hour he sat down and the only thing he managed to do was get smears of ink onto it.

Harry chewed on the feather to help him think about then wrote down the first thing that came to mind.

_Draco._

Just seeing that name caused all the feelings Harry tried to keep locked away to hit him all at once. Guilt from causing that deep pain that slashed onto his best friend's face when he turned away from him. Fear and panic over seeing that blonde hair and gray eyes after coming across a familiar sight earlier. And longing, stems from the fierce protectiveness to keep him away from the truth, from the bone-aching need to have him right by his side, from the bottomless vast of love that pieced him like a knife.

_I…_

Draco's flushed face when they broke their kiss. The curiosity and excitement gleaming in his eyes when Harry said he had something important to tell him after the third task.

_I…_

" _If it turns out Lucius really is on Voldemort's side, and he's given the choice between you and his father, which side do you think Draco will choose?"_

Harry bit his bottom lip so hard, he nearly drew blood. It was only way he could fight against the lump burning in his throat, the tears flooding his eyes.

_I miss you._

More than he knew.

Harry tied the note against Hedwig's ankle.

"Deliver this to Draco," Harry instructed. "And only to Draco. If anyone-" A curtain of platinum-blonde hair fell as the servant bent forward. Piercing gray eyes shining from his mask. "If anyone else tries to take it, destroy it. Eat it yourself if you have to."

Hedwig hooted and took off, disappearing into the night.

A week later, Harry found himself in a similar position: huddled on the shower floor, searing hot water pouring over him, holding onto himself tightly after escaping from another horrible nightmare.

This time, he wasn't in the graveyard. He was in a dark, cold cellar, watching a boy around his age, shackled by hands and ankles on a wooden table and the Dark Lord slowly approaching him. Listening to the faux-sweet words dripping from the Dark Lord's lips as he told the boy that he should honor for being chosen. Then watching Voldemort shot a Cutting hex on him, starting with his face, slashing his shoulders and arms, marking his gut and hips.

What was horrible was that he wasn't just watching Voldemort. He was Voldemort. It was like those faux-sweet words were coming from Harry's own mouth. It was like it was his ears that rang from pleasure by the sounds of the boy's agonizing screams that sounded like music to him. It was like it was his hand, his wand casting the Cutting hex over and over again, tearing through layers of skin, ripping apart organs.

And he couldn't do anything to stop it. He was just as helpless as the poor boy, forced to watch him scream and plead for mercy, forced to look into those tear-filled blue green eyes and watch the life slowly die from them when the pain became too much for him, when the last drop of blood spilled.

An ice-cold shudder went through Harry's body; the memories of the day all too raw.

Things were happening. Harry couldn't explain it, but he knew deep in his heart, in his gut that something was happening. Something big, something terrible. And the star players were him and Voldemort.

Voldemort who was getting stronger everyday while Harry was here, huddled in the shower, hiding.

A current began rocking in his still ocean, breaking away from the center. A ripple growing in strength and size, hardening to stone.

It took Harry awhile to recognize it as anger.

He wasn't going to be hiding away when Voldemort returned. He refused to be helpless like last time.

He was going to fight. He needed to fight.

And he knew just the person to see who could help him.

* * *

It was almost like Severus knew that he was coming, perched right on his favorite chair, pulling his eyes away from the book he was reading to arch a dark eyebrow at Harry as he stumbled from the floor. Harry had to grip onto the couch's armrest to keep his face from smacking onto the ground.

"Um..." He spotted smears of Floor onto his clothes. He tried dusting it off.

The arched brow lifted a bit higher.

Harry dusted the floo powder off his clothes and then straightened up. "I…"

He didn't really have a plan. Harry just pulled himself off the shower floor, threw on his clothes, and escaped Grimmauld Place through the floo. Only now that he was here, Harry didn't quite know what to do. Or say.

The last time he saw Severus, Harry was choked up with emotions. Shock that turned his blood into ice, anger that turned his stomach, and pain that gripped his chest. Seeing Severus now, those feelings came rushing back, rocking against the still steam.

"I…" Harry tried again and fell into silence once more when he couldn't think of anything.

Severus bookmarked his book and sat it down on the table, getting up from his chair to move into the kitchen. At a loss over what to do, Harry took a seat on the couch.

Harry glanced around the place. The Snape manor exterior wasn't that much different from Severus' office at Hogwarts: done in dark neutral colors, rows upon rows of tall shelves stuffed with books. The only difference between the two settings was the few pictures Severus allowed to be hung on the walls. It didn't exactly give a warm, bright atmosphere like most places, but Harry remembered having fun here. Feeling safe in a different sort of way.

His train of thought ran off its course when he heard footsteps. His eyes widened at the sight of sandwiches taking over the silver tray Severus brought. From the distance, Harry could make out the marshmallow fluff.

"Eat." Severus said.

And so Harry did. He picked one up and took slow bites, helping himself to another, then another, and another. While he ate, Severus poured them tea, pushing Harry's cup towards him while he finished his own in one gulp.

Not once, between the sandwich-eating and tea-pouring, did Severus ask him how he was doing, even though this was the first time in months they were seeing each other face to face. It could have been because the look on Harry's face said it all. It said plenty to Remus and Sirius when he came to after the third task. It said enough that Ron, Hermione, and rest of the Weasleys had a hard time meeting his gaze in the beginning.

But Severus was never one for subtly. Hr hardly ever needed a confirmation to things. He usually found things out before other person and waited for them to catch on themselves.

A part of Harry wondered how much talent played into Voldermort's favor.

"Did she know?" A private thought floating through his head voiced out before he could catch himself.

Severus blinked, and then blinked again but more slowly, his eyes sliding down to his tea.

Minutes dragged on between them like years. Severus's lines were pulled into a thin line. Harry waited, playing with the crust of his sandwiches.

"Yes."

Harry's eyes snapped back to him. Severus stared back at him evenly, his face expressionless.

"Mom knew?" Harry asked.

Severus didn't flinch as he replied, "She did."

Mum knew? She knew? The words turned his world on a baffling axis. Did she stumble across the truth like Harry did? Did Severus tell her the truth himself? More importantly, how long had she known? Did she know from the beginning? Did she figure it out after they came back together?

If it was the first one, it explained why the friendship fell apart. But if it was the latter…and Mum still choose Severus to look over Harry…

"You aren't ready to know the truth, not yet," Severus said. "But that wasn't what you came for me, is it?"

Harry wasn't even surprised that Severus knew. He dropped the remains of his sandwich, wiped the crumbs off his fingers with his sweatpants, and took in a deep breath.

"I-I need to-" Harry winced at the uncertainty creaked in his voice. Is this what he had become? "I need to know more."

Severus's brows rose in question.

"About Voldemort," he clarified. "How I can beat him."

Severus stared at him for a good long minute. He broke the gaze connection by blinking once and rising from his chair, inclining Harry to follow with a nod as he walked out of the room.

Harry quickly hopped his seat and followed. Severus strode up the staircase, down the hall, into a room that was practically bare. It looked almost like an attic, narrow in size with the roof too close to their heads, creaky floors that groaned with every step, and wooden walls that felt like crumpling paper as Harry ran his hand through it.

"What is this place?"

"The front door to my safe."

_His what?_  Harry turned around to see Severus kneeling down before one of the square floor titles. He murmured a spell against his wand like he was sharing a secret, and tapped the tip against the floor. Silver light dripped from the wand like paint onto the floorboard, melting away the exterior to reveal another staircase leading downward. This time stoned.

"What?" Severus was already walking inside, leaving Harry no choice but to follow.

Downstairs was another library, smaller with every inch of the walls taken up by shelves stuffed with books.

"Do you know one of my favorite quotes?" Severus asked, walking down one shelve, running his hand through the thick spines.

Harry thought on it, considering the countless number of books the man devoured, and shook his head.

" _Strengthen the body, sharpen the mind,"_  Severus recited, his back to Harry. "The mind needs just as much training as the body, even more. A fact very few are aware, including me and the Dark Lord." Severus turned back to him, his eyes dark and sharp. "Dumbledore has requited me to help you train, so that you are prepared."

_Prepared?_  Dread squeezed the muscles of Harry's stomach. "For war?"

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Did you expect anything else?"

Voldemort was back at full power, stronger than before. His army was growing while Dumbledore's was dwindling. The panic circling the wizarding world, the number of missing people was escalating. "No."

A glow of what looked to be pride lit in Severus's eyes. "Then you already completed step one, which puts you ahead of others. Step two is going require absolute concentration."

Severus pulled out a book from the third top shelve slapped in the middle that was almost twice the size of the Monsters book Hagrid had them get third year. The cover was made from a tough, grayish-blue material, the pages yellowed from age, and the binding so frail Harry was almost afraid to touch it.

Handling it with care, Harry flipped it over to the first page where he watched a woman in the center. Streaks burst from her head, growing into thick walls that developed into more and more until she was standing in her own personal maze.

" _Occlumency_." Harry recited.

"Step two. Between now and September, I suggest you become acquainted with the text. Read it, devour it like it was your lifeline, memorize every sequence and pattern until you can recite it in your sleep," Severus said. "And then once you are done, once you have every technique down, you will come back to me to begin step three."

Harry nodded, closing the book. He made his way over to the staircase, but stopped short at the firm, gentle touch of Severus's hand on his shoulder.

Severus's stone-black eyes softened just a bit as they looked down at him. "I'm sorry. For what you had to go through."

Harry had a feeling the apologize went further beyond what happened during the third task.

His head was still spinning from what he saw, what he heard within the last few weeks. His gut was too twisted up to pick a side. His chest ached from the number of secrets he'd been hit with. He was still drifting in the despairing sea.

However, in that moment, his uncle's steady hand was the raft keeping him steady.

* * *

It was odd how one could be lost, stuck in a rotating cycle of bland gray, and all it took was a simple project to slowly crawl out of the cycle, throwing all their energy into the project.

The Occlumency book Severus gave him became that project. Like his journals, it kept him distracted, occupied. It kept him steady like a raft. It gave something to do. A purpose that made him feel like he was actually doing something.

The book did explain why almost all the books Severus gave him before had to do with the mind and the method of Legilimancy. It was a branch connected to Occlumency. But where Legilimancy was used to toy and alter memories, Occlumency was used to protect those memories, using the mind as its' shield. Which led Harry to look back at the all the other books from Severus, and seek out more books on Occlumency, switching back and forth between them, jotting down notes on the pages and in spare notebooks like he was preparing for a test.

It humanized him a bit, making him to come out of his cocoon and rejoin the human world. It helped him feel more awake, more focused. Less numb. In between reading and practicing the techniques on mind-blocking, he was getting to know his sort-of, not-quite cousin, Tonks, who was definitely clumsy and a bit too energetic, but had a certain charm that made her instantly likable. Even if she broke three whole sets of china that made her become Kreacher's public enemy number one. Even if she did nearly burn down the kitchen trying to help Mrs. Wesaely make dinner. Mrs. Weasley started to fidget less around him. Although she was still angry Sirius unofficially invited him to the order, she hadn't said a word about it since, choosing to fret over the upcoming school year. Remus was happy to lend him a hand with his research, asking zero questions, pulling out books on his own personal library.

The book didn't change Ron and Hermione's shock over the secret-or their worry, questioning if he was right to keep Lucius's possible appearance a secret.

And it most certainly didn't keep the dreams away. The ghosts continued to haunt him. Voldermort, Tom Riddle, sometimes a hybrid of both taunted him. And every single one of those dreams were filled with torment. Sometimes it was a Death-Eater who suffered a slight mishap and nearly became the snake's chew toy. Sometimes it was a Muggle at the wrong time, wrong place, running the other direction one second, then collapsing in a dead heap by a flash of electric green. Most times though it was a just a stranger.

A wizard, a witch. Man, woman, or child. All of them laid out a rusted, bloody table, or huddled in a dark cell, looking up at Voldemort-at Harry-with tears streaming down their bruised faces, pleading for mercy. All of them slowly, brutally tortured. Sometimes, like the Death-eaters, they were given to the snake, but as food. Sometimes they had bones broken by hand as well as hex. Sometimes they had parts cut, hands and ankles and neck and stomach, left to bleed out. Sometimes, it was taken further, with their organs bleeding from the inside out, gushing from their eyes, their noses, their ears. And every single time Harry was forced to look into those eyes, filled with so much pain and fear, and watched the life slowly die out.

Nothing could make those dreams go away. He wasn't sure anything could.

The last night of August, Harry found Sirius at the very last place he expected him to be. The family room.

It was the barest of all rooms in the entire house, with only a small set of furniture and a tapestry plastered on the walls. Every time he stepped into the room, Harry was always hit by a grave sense of melancholy that loomed over it.

The tapestry that took up all four walls, expanding from corner to corner. Immensely old and faded in color, it looked as though doxies had gnawed on it in some places; nevertheless, the golden thread which it was embroidered in the material still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling family tree dating back to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

_**THE NOBLE AND MOST ANICENT HOUSE OF BLACK** _

" _ **TOUJOURS PUR"**_

Sitting across from the tapestry was Sirius, nursing a half-empty tumbler of bourbon with the bottle resting by his feet, halfway done. His glassy eyes were fixed on the burnt spot where his named used to be.

"Dear sweet mother," Harry nearly jumped at the sound of Sirius's voice, growing used to the silence. "Blasted me off after I ran away from home. Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

It was a story Harry heard before and yet…"Where did you go?"

"Your dad's place," said Sirius. "I was always welcomed with the Potters. They had more decency in one hand than my entire family put together."

Sirius tilted back his head and finished the rest of his drink in one swig, grimacing as he swallowed down. Anger in those glassy eyes as he studied the tapestry, toying with the cup as if he were deciding whether or not he wanted to throw the glass against it.

"I hated the whole lot of them: my parents with their pureblood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royalty…my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them…" A small, bitter smile curved Sirius's mouth. "There he is."

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name  **REGULUS BLACK**. A date of death (some eight years ago prior) followed the date of birth.

"Younger than me," Sirius said. "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

Harry stared down at the name, bits and pieces of the conversation moving around his brain like cogs. Sirius had opened up a bit more on his brother, and the role he played that Halloween night. "You hardly talk about him."

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and poured himself another drink. "There's a before and after answer to your question. The before: for years, I thought he was an idiot. A stupid, great big idiot that joined the Death Eaters."

Harry's brows nearly touched his hairline. "Were-were your parents Death Eaters as well?"

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea. They were all for the purification of the Wizarding Race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren't alone either. They were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things…They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a little hero for joining up."

Harry studied the picture above the name. Regulus looked a lot like Sirius with a narrower face, making his cheekbones appear sharper, his black hair cut low and a flat, hollowed look in his eyes that made it hard to look directly into them. "You said there's a before and after to the story. What's the after?"

Sirius poured himself another glass that he gulped down in one swig.

"When you pledge your loyalty to Voldemort, it's a life-sentence," Sirius swirled the remnants of bourbon around in the glass. "The only way out is either dying for Voldermort's cause or getting killed by him for treachery. Regulus, from what I heard, was nowhere clear to his inner circle, but he found out something. Something big, something dangerous that earned him a kill-on-sight sentence from Voldermort." Sirius bit down on his bottom lip. "Any person with common sense would have disappeared. I did. But my stupid, soft, idiotic little brother…did what he had to do and used his remaining time of life to pass on a message to me. 'The Dark Lord gained a new pet _. A rat._ '"

Sirius poured another drink but didn't chug it down. He stared at his brother's portrait with a unfathomable, raw emotion in his eyes that looked like regret.

"He sounds like a hero, Paddy," Harry said. "You should feel proud."

Sirius shrugged with one shoulder. "Shame he didn't live long enough for me to tell him."

Pulling himself up on unsteady feet, Sirius walked over to the tapestry.

"Shame Tonks isn't here. Or her mother." He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa. "Her two sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pureblood marriages while Andromeda married a Muggleborn, Ted Tonks, so-"

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry, however, didn't laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy, and a single vertical gold link from their names led to the name Draco.

"Why do you hate Aunt Cissa so much?" Harry asked.

He almost expected Sirius to say that it was complicated, that he didn't hare her. Not really. Or for him to try to change the subject altogether. But Sirius was just like Severus when it came to heavy topics. He never hid from heavy. He faced it directly.

"Would you believe me if I told you that there was a time we were actually close? Me, Regulus, Andy, and Cissy?" The look on Harry's face must have been daunting, because the bitterness spoiled Sirius's smile. "Bellatrix, being the oldest and a piece of work even back then, thought it was beneath her to hang out with the kiddies. Though she always had a soft spot for Cissa. It didn't matter. The four of us formed our own group. We had fun, a lot of fun actually."

"Then what happened?"

"What happens to all kids. They grow up and get pulled in different directions. Me and Andy one way, Regulus and Narcissa another. Regulas didn't really surprise me since he was always after our parents' approval. But Narcissa…" Sirius closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. "The one time we needed her the most, when Andy needed her the most, she just walked away. And didn't look back. Then along the way, she did a lot of things. Made horrible,  _horrible_  choices that I can't forgive. And I sure as hell ain't forgetting."

The woman Sirius was describing hardly resembled the woman that raised Harry. Remembering how close she was to Mum, knowing how much family meant to her, he couldn't picture Narcissa turning her back on someone who trusted her.

Unsure what to say, Harry glanced over at the name on Andromeda's left. Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double link to Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Lestrange…" Harry said out loud. The name had stirred something in his memory. He knew it from somewhere, but for a moment he couldn't think where, though, it gave him an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"They're in Azkaban," said Sirius shortly.

Harry looked at him curiously.

"Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch Junior," said Sirius in the same brusque voice. "Rodolphus's brother, Rabaston, was with them too."

Now Harry remembered. The woman he saw inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, dark-haired with heavily-lidded eyes that stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort. Her pride that she tried to find him after his downfall and her conviction she would one day be rewarded for her loyalty.

The two stood in front of the tapestry, studying the names and faces of those that remained and that have been erased.

"Are you sure you want to go back?" Sirius asked minutes later, breaking the silence. "Dumbledore and his orders be damned. You don't have to if you don't want to. I can always get you a tutor."

Another argument that have been brewing in Grimmauld Place for most of the summer: Harry's return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore thought it was important for him to continue his schooling. Remus and Mrs. Weasley said it showed great courage if he went back. Ron all but hinted he'd punch Harry square in the face if he didn't come back with him. Sirius, on the other hand, was against, orders and show-face be damned.

"I have to. And I want to. Hogwarts is my home-well, my home away from home. I miss my friends. But…" Harry swallowed as memories of the mirror and the graveyard dream resurfaced.

"But…" Sirius parroted.

"There's something between me and Voldermort. I can't prove it. I can't explain it. But it's there. This thing, this connection…what if the reason for it is because I'm-I'm…" The similarities Tom Riddle listed out between himself and Harry, too jarring to ignore. "I'm somehow becoming more like him? I don't feel anything. It's like-like I'm in this void where everything is numb, and when I break out, all I feel is anger. All the time. Like I just wanna scream until my lungs give out. Or hex everything in sight."

Sirius watched him closely.

"What if, after everything I've been through, something's wrong inside me? What if I'm becoming bad?"

Sirius closed the distance between them and placed both hands on Harry's shoulders, his grip firm. He looked straight into Harry's eyes as he said, "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. You're not a bad person. You're a very good person who had bad things happen to you, understand?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Besides," A smile came through Sirius's lips. "The world isn't spilt into good people and Death Eaters. We'll all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

Harry tentatively returned his smile. "In case it hasn't been said enough," he said. "You're a great godfather."

The smile fell from his lips as his eyes shimmered. Before Harry had to chance to look into more closely, he pulled into a tight hug that he easily returned.

Harry closed his eyes and for once fell easily into the brief darkness, comforted by the familiar scent of Sirius's aftershave. Moments later, Sirius pulled him back but still kept him close.

"When this is all over, we're gonna be a proper family again," Secrecy touched Sirius's smile at the quirk of his brow. "Maybe even a bit bigger."

_A bit big_ -Harry's jaw dropped. "You mean…you guys are-"

Sirius's smile grew. "I think having a little kiddo with my good looks and a dazzling personality would be a brilliant addition to the family. Or two…maybe even three."

"A brilliant migraine is more like it," Remus corrected as he walked into the room. His mouth set in a frown but his eyes glowing playfully. Looking at Harry, he clarified, "Nothing has been officially decided yet. We're still giving it some thought.  _However_ ," His eyes crossed over to a smirking Sirius. "If your goal is to aim for more than one, you're on your own."

Sirius tapped his finger against his chin, considering the idea. "Well, that'd be interesting."

Huffing, Remus shoved him away, deepening Sirius's smirking to snickering. A small smile cracked Harry's face.

Tonks's head popped into the doorway, beaming when she saw them. "Oh good, you're up!" The head retreated, and the whole body of her reappeared with a tray of mugs, chocolate-scented steam billowing from the rim. "I made some hot chocolate. Your taste buds are going to be singing when you taste Dad's secret recipe- _oh shite!_ "

Several things happened at once. Tonk's foot got caught by the couch's leg. The mugs did somersaults as they went flying through the air. The side right of the family tapestry, covering Sirius's immediate family, and most of Sirius himself were painted chocolate brown.

Tonk's hands flew to her mouth. Remus's eyes nearly bugged out from his head. Sirius squirted out some of the hot chocolate that got into his mouth.

Harry's eyes hopped from one messy sight to the other, feeling coughing stirring in his system, rattling in his stomach, traveling up his throat. When he opened his mouth, though, laughter poured out. Laughter so loud, so strong Harry nearly fell to his feet.

Still he couldn't stop. He laughed so hard, tears were pouring down his face, blinding his vision. He laughed so hard, his stomach ached. And still he laughed.

Sirius quickly joined in when he realized how ridiculous he looked. Remus soon gave in, laughing along with them. Tonks joined in, the feeling too contagious to ignore. Filling the somber room, tainted with dark family history and secrets, with laughter.


	44. The Calming Hymn of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: things get STE-AMY. So if that makes you uncomfortable, be curious of the ending. Also shout out to SensiblyTainted for help with the scene

~~~~

Noises of the bustling French streets buzzed and hummed outside the balcony of his bedroom. The windows in the mansion Father had built for them in northern France were wider than the Manor with the windows reaching up to the ceiling, stretching out to the entire wall, letting streams of bright sunshine into the room, gifting him with a beautiful view of the city, the buildings, the shops, the people.

Too bad for them, Draco's attention wasn't on the brilliance of the city. It was on his appearance.

Draco stared back at his reflection that watched him critically, cocking his head to the side to study it from a different angle.

It was astonishing what a summer could do to people. The timing itself possessed a sort wonderment behind it: a summer of change, a summer of possibility, a summer where one went off, either back home or a new setting and returned different. It was strange what three simple months (four if he counted the mid-May date they were released from school) could do a person. How it could shape their appearance, shape their mind.

Evidence of his change was clear on his face. His skin-tone, despite the hours he spent out in the sun during his lessons and his alone-time, glowed to clear, luminous porcelain. His white-blonde hair had grown out, nearly reaching his chin, which he tucked behind his ears. His face appeared the same but different. More mature in a way, more narrow, more sharp, making his chin and cheekbones more prominent, which made him look older than fifteen. Of course, his eyes held the biggest pieces of his newfound maturity, sharp and completely clear.

A far cry from the fresh-faced fourteen year old that reluctantly left England to return to the Veela retreat in France. He wondered if he would look different next year or if evil, nasty puberty for the previous three years he branded as a villain was finally settling in.

Or if the changes were brought on by a certain inheritance that was taking hold of him.

A jolt of razor-sharp pain flared up his back, biting into his left shoulder blade.

Draco bit his lip to keep in the pained cry racing up his throat, gripping onto his shoulder as if he could push back the pain.

When the burning finally eased, he released his shoulder, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, and turned his back to the mirror, lifting up his shirt and looking over his shoulder to examine his back.

For the most part, it appeared normal. A mass of smooth, nearly flawless pale skin the color of cream. Until closer examination picked up on a thin, long line marked at his upper shoulder that looked like it was drawn by a dagger. Similar to the one on the right side of his back, occupying the other shoulder that had another mark underneath it, a bit longer. The newest mark, still bruised-red and underneath under the left mark, was longer than other two, slanting out into a curve.

Swallowing down a hard lump, Draco's eyes went from his back to his hand that gripped onto the shirt, nearly damaging the material.

_He tried his hardest not to roll his eyes as the instructor called them to split up into pairs and fight only with their hands. His body was still stiff, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep he'd been experiencing the past few days. His dreams disturbed by two images._

_The first of a dark-haired little boy coming into the Manor late at night, his face and hair and blue pajamas stained with blood, his hollow eyes gazing up at Draco. The second of two boys tumbling out of thin air. One long dead, whose wide eyes were directed up to the sky. The other bloody and bruised, as if he barely escaped with his life, who through all the chaos and the screaming managed to slowly turn his head over to Draco's direction and look at him with bright green eyes that were just as vacant as the corpse beside him._

_Those same, vacant eyes have been haunting him since the last time they saw each other._

_Hands balling into tight fists, Draco forced his feet to move, not in the mood for another lecture on his lack of participation. He eyed his opponent. A tall, wide-frame boy with a fat double chin who looked about as old as Delacour. Actually, now that he thought about it, this was the same bamboo who managed to take Delacour down their last defense class._

_The fool wore the same superior smirk he had last time as he faced Draco. "Couldn't help but notice you reading the Prophet earlier?" he asked slyly, a thick Italian accent attached to his voice._

_Draco arched an eyebrow. Was that how he planned on undermining him? Mindless drabble?_

" _Couldn't help but notice the headline._ _ **Boy Who Lies**_ _." The smirk grew. "Catchy tune, shameful end."_

_Tension grabbed hold of Draco's body, carving his spine like a blade._

" _You two are close mates, yes? Maybe you should think about cutting_  are _to_ were _? I would if I were you."_

_Tension coiled inside him._

" _After all, the Malfoys can't afford to be seen on the wrong side? Unless, of course, you already are."_

_Tension_ snapped _._

_It happened so fast. One second they were standing apart from each other, the fool baiting, Draco trying not to the react. The next, the fool was knocked flat on his face, his face deformed and mutilated with Draco being pulled away by the instructor and several students before more damage could be done._

_Heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, Draco glanced down at his hands that were spiked with talons extending from his fingertips. Stained bright red with chunks of skin stuck in between his fingers that were formerly part of the fool's face._

_The remaining tension in his body faded away with calmness pouring into him as he studied his hands, the blood, and the torn skin almost as if they were art. A calm, steady, detached sort of coolness that settled onto him like a second skin._ _He stared at his hands until the talons shrunk into normal nails, the gore remaining._

_He then walked over to the fool and stared down at him. "Insult my family again, you're dead." He lifted his left foot and slammed it down hard on the bamboo's thick neck. "Insult Harry again, you will be wishing you're dead by the time I'm done with you." The bamboo was wheezing, trying to break free from Draco's hold. Too bad for him, Draco applied more pressure to his foot, pressing down harder. "Provoke me in any way, come near me again, attempt to even breathe my direction…you will die in a such slow, unspeakably agonizing way that the devil himself will weep for you."_

_The bamboo's was a pained moan, pained and fearful as he looked into Draco's face._

_Draco made his way out the door._

He was only in England for a few days before Mother informed him of his return back to the Veela retreat. If it was last year, he would have fought against it, he would've ranted until he was blue in the face, throw denial and denial like hexes. But this time he didn't have the energy in him to resist. His nerves that had been on edge and over-wired exhausted him. His head was filled with memories of the aftermath of the Tournament, those two boys tumbling in and empty bright-greens looking at him, and then those memories turning to nightmares of the owner of those also being dead.

Just because he didn't make his disdain vocally clear didn't mean he expected much out of it. He figured things would be the same as before. With Delacour following him around like a shadow, lectures on them digging in deep to unlock the hidden side to themselves, lessons and tactics he wouldn't be part of due to lack of traits and parts, him observing from a distance and trying not to die from boredrom. And during the first few weeks, his expectations were well-met. The lectures were tedious, the lessons useless, and Delacour a pretty-faced pest that always popped up, shooting him concerned glances as he passed by her or sent out letters that were unanswered.

Looking back, maybe the signs were there. It was possible it was always there but he refused to see it for a number of reasons. However, in his eyes, pure coincidence. Incidents. Even when the evidence became stronger and more frequent, he refused to look to see. But denial could only go so far until your hands became claws and your fingers were wearing pieces of a clown's face.

Draco ran his hands over each other. They haven't changed since the fight, remaining two ordinary hands. But he knew from the experience that strong emotion, such as anger, was the trigger behind it, and time would only tell if his anger ever reached that fiery height again.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. He blinked, and then turned over to it.

Mother came into his room, smiling. "Almost ready?"

"Just about."

She nodded, and then cast her eyes out the wide windows which gifted them a beautiful view of the city, the markets opening, the vendors calling, the people enjoying the bright morning. She sighed, watching it unfold. "I've always loved France. There's just something ethereal about it. As if time can't touch it. A private haven from the rest of the world."

He came to France to learn more of his Veela inheritance. Mother came along with him to watch over him, busying herself with shopping and sight-seeing while Father stayed behind in England, handling "business", sending the occasional letter to Draco on his whereabouts, questions on Draco's own development, and then most recently a list of potential brides he should look into.

A letter that left the taste of acid in his mouth.

Mother turned her head over to him, offered him another smile, and came over to him. She gently batted his hands away and took over, helping him with the rest of his clothes. Smoothening out the crinkles in his shirt, fixing up his collar, and then pining on his cloak, adding his badges: his house crest and his new Prefects pin that came in a few days ago.

"You know I can always get a house-elf to help me with it?" he said.

"I know," she answered. Yet she still preferred handling the small tasks herself: rocking him to sleep, tucking him into bed when he was a child, straightening up his appearance.

As she smoothened his clothes, Draco began more aware of the letter he had tucked away into his pocket with three words written on it. One folded and refolded, read over so many times, marked with only three words:  _I miss you._ The first and only response he had gotten from Harry after weeks of unanswered letters.

When Draco received the letter, he was beside himself. Weeks of countless letters and he got back a small note with only three letters. After Harry pulled away from him, after Harry refused to see him, after Harry replied to his questions with a silence so heavy Draco could feel it from across the country. He was tempted to reply back but resisted, knowing would just be a strongly-colored letter rant. He wanted to give into the petty side and toss it into the fire. But he kept it. He kept it and read it over and over again, his mind spiraling a thousand different directions. Much like it had been most of the summer.

"Give him time." Mother murmured, fixing his collar. She didn't even need to look up to know what was on his mind.

"Do you think…?" Draco hated how small his voice sounded. So unsure. He bit his bottom lip. "Do you think he's alright?"

Mother smoothened her hands over his collar and looked up at him. Her smile remained but grew small, a bit more hesitant. "Everyone deals with trauma in their own way, at their own pace, dragon. It's not an easy feat to overcome. In fact, most times it's a day to day battle people have to face. And Harry..." She drummed her fingers against his chest as she worked up a safe response. "Harry wasn't in the best place when last I saw him."

Right there was the reason why Draco kept the letter. Why his annoyance and anger over what happened fell just as quickly as it rose. Why his mind was constantly on a loop, going this way and that.

A week before Draco went off to France, after sending dozens of unanswered letters, Mother went over to Grimmauld Place to check on Harry. He insisted that he came along, but she refused to. Half an hour later, she returned looking shaken.

"What happened-" She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was the clutching grasp of her hand that silenced him, holding on tightly before it loosened.

"I think-I think, dragon, Harry needs some time to himself before he can see anyone else."

"Even me?" he asked. His voice so small he barely heard it.

Mother's curved into a trouble frown before it was fixed into a straight line, her eyes spinning with so many unsaid words and thoughts. She finally looked up at him and patted his cheek, only reminding him to make sure he had everything he needed before they both left for France, and then left him alone in his room.

His mother, his calm, rational Mother shaken so badly from her return. The vacancy in Harry's eyes when they looked at him, and then later on when Harry turned away from him and demanded in a broken voice that he go. Those were the elements kept Draco from storming over to Grimmauld Place himself. What kept him rooted at the camp instead of not marching over there, knocking through Black, Lupin, whatever obstacle he might face, and see himself what the tournament had done to his boy.

Despite the crippling pain in his chest. It was similar to the aches that pricked his chest whenever they were separated, but this summer it was ten times worse. Fifty even, digging into his heart like fish hooks that pulled and pulled with every mile spread out between them. With each passing day they spent apart.

Mother laid a hand against his chest, reeling him back into reality before his mind took him down too deep. "But he is a strong boy, one who will need his friends now more than ever. He'll need you just as you'll need him."

He managed to put on a soft smile on her, but he noticed how frail hers suddenly became. Mother studied him, truly studied him, eyes darting over his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, then back to his eyes again. Taking everything in.

"There was once a time when you were barely up to my waist."

Draco stared back at her, unsure of what to say.

She took in a deep breath and released it with a sign, throwing him another smile. "Well," she said. "We better get going."

Draco nodded and his way over to the door. Then paused as he heard Mother call out to him again, glancing over his shoulder.

"Know that no matter what, I'm on your side. Yours and Harry."

There it was again. That calm beat of her heart, the sound note in her voice. So calm, so soft that it sounded off to him.

As much as he wanted to look more into it, he knew he barely had time. He had a train to catch and a friend to see. With that in mind, Draco nodded, grabbed his bag, and went downstairs.

Only to find a surprise waiting for them in the parlor room. Father who rose from the couch at the sound of their footsteps and came forward to them. His hair was still long but Draco saw a yard of it had been cut; now reaching his elbows. He looked more tired than the last time they saw each other, with more stressed ceases added to his face, but he kept his posture straight and proud, hair neat, cane in hand. The perfect image of an untouchable lord.

"Father," Draco said at the exact moment Mother asked, "What are you doing here, Lucius?"

To Mother, he answered, "I thought I'd surprise you by coming to the villa so we'd all go to the platform together. Last I checked that wasn't exactly a crime, Narcissa."

Her lips pursed into a thin line, but she said nothing else.

To Draco, he said, "Seems the retreat is growing on you. You look well."

Draco acknowledged the words with a slight nod.

"I am also here to give you your birthday present," Father removed one hand from his cane to reach into his cloak, pulling out a small gray suede box. "I wanted to see your reaction in person."

The box size alone limited the possibilities of the surprise down to one. But still Draco accepted the box accepted, handling it with great care, and opened the cover. Nestled inside, cushioned with small clothes of black velvet was the Malfoy family wear wore by his father, his grandfather's, his grandfather's father and so forth. Twin silver snakes slithering across the platinum sliver band, their heads colliding against the oval centerpiece decorated with the silver-white Gothic-styled M that had black dragons by its sides and the Slytherin colors splashed around it.

It was a gift Draco knew he would eventually receive, but later on, like his seventeenth birthday or even as a graduation gift once he finished school. He also thought that the day he'd receive it, he'd feel great accomplishment. Pride, happiness even. Yet other than slight surprise, he didn't feel anything else as he looked at it.

"It's-it's beautiful." Draco said.

Father took his lack of words as speechless wonder, smiling at him. "I know it's a tad bit early. Typically the Malfoy heir receives the ring on their seventeenth birthday, but, well, this was one tradition I decided to break."

What else could he say? Draco studied the ring again before he closed the box and placed it inside his pocket. "Thank you, Father."

Father came close to him and laid his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Did you get my recent letter? Have you given it any thought?"

Draco bristled before he fixed his face into calm neutrality. Oh- _that letter_. The list of potential brides. The same letter he received around the time he had that match with the bamboo. The same that made sharp acid spiral through his insides as he read it. The same one he fed to the lake, where it was fed to the deep waters. For that question, Draco decided silence was his best answer.

Seemed it was the best answer the way Father's smile widened. Then immediately fell as Mother came down the stairs and passed by him without another word, filling Draco's head with a strong sense of suspicion something more went on between them than just business and Mother's claims of wanting to be closer to Draco.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

The house-elf started the Floo for them. His parents waited for Draco to go through first. He turned back for a split moment and saw Father trying to reach for Mother's hand, a gesture she rejected by pulling away from him.

Platform 9 ¾ was the same as it was every year: busy, busy, busy. Students, old and new, filling the entire length of the place with their families, excitement and anticipation over the new year filling the brisk morning air. Friends, dressed in their casual clothes or Hogwarts robes, shouting at one another, running into each other's arms, clustering into their groups. Parents after and at them to watch over themselves, to write daily, and triple-check they saw everything. Pets from owls to cats rattling in their cages as exhausted porters carried them onto the train, along with the rest of the luggage. As familiar as the setting was and the atmosphere, there was still something unsettling about it.

It could have been the fact more eyes were drawn to him, which made him wonder if the developments he picked up at the Veela retreat were that transparent. It could have been the fact, despite how crowded the platform, he didn't see too many people from his class there. It could have been the fact there was something dark and heavy lingering in the air, cloaked underneath new year nerves and jitters, that made his nerves stand on edge.

Draco recognized a few familiar faces. Crabbe and Goyle with dreadful haircuts that looked like they were done in the dark. Pansy who was linked arm-to-arm with Blaise, rolling her eyes at whatever the Italian was saying. Daphne trying to peel herself away from her younger sister, a miniature version of the girl with a darker shade of blonde hair, who was clutching onto her older sister for dear life. He also saw unpleasantly familiar faces. Longbottom, whose face was bright as a tomato, as he stood in between his grandmother that was babbling away and Lovegood who appeared amused by the woman's words. Weasley and the rest of his clones surrounding their mother who yanked one child into her arms for a spine-crushing hug, then reached out for another. Granger was chatting away with the she-weasel, although the conversation came to halt when she noticed Draco staring at her.

She examined him, almost as carefully as Mother had earlier, before a frown caught hold of her mouth and she turned away.

_Just as pestering as always_ , Draco concluded with a frown. Granger was a nuisance but at this point it was common knowledge. Besides she wasn't worth his attention. What was, however, was the fact she was there, Weasley was there, the rest of his friends were there, but he didn't see Harry anywhere.

Draco was surprised to see Harry wasn't with them. Surprised and disappointed-and also worried. Especially when he cast his eyes around the place and still couldn't find him.

Pain streaked through his chest like a set of claws, bleeding out into anxiety.

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned, distracted (and relieved) by the locks of jet-black hair in front of him. Then his relief died a fiery death when he saw those locks belonged to the wrong boy.

Theo stood in front of him, looking just as surprised to be there as Draco was to find him there. A light shade of pink came over his cheeks, and Theo tried to play it off by clearing his throat.

"Do you mind if we talk?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. The last time the two "talked", Theo made it clear he didn't want anything from Draco other than to drop dead after he found out what happened (or rather, what  _almost_  but still didn't happen) between Draco and Pansy at the Yule Ball.

"Please." Theo added.

He supposed there was no harm in hearing what else he had to say. Draco followed Theo into a small alcove tucked into a corner and leaned against the wall, waiting for Theo. He wanted the conversation, so he might as well start it.

Theo stared down at the ground, his fists clenched, then unclenched. "I-I…it's ironic how one soak up mountains of literature like a sponge and yet can't hardly string a set of words together in real life."

Draco arched a questioning brow at him, arms crossed against his chest.

Theo sucked in a breath, puffing out his cheeks, and let it out slowly. He looked up at Draco and said. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry things got out of hand. That night-I just-I didn't expect  _that_."

"You mean me and Pansy?"

Theo nodded; eyes downcast. "I know-the Yule Ball was a mess. And I know Pansy-she has her moments but even she has her limits. When I came up to her room, I wanted to apologize for what I said but then you stumbled out, smelling like a bar, looking like you just got mauled by a wildcat. Then Pansy peeked out of her room, looking worse. I was completely thrown off. Not just that. I was hurt, really hurt. I know I shouldn't have been since Pansy and I barely get along on a good day, and the fact I did say some pretty nasty things to her, but it hurt. It hurt and I just wanted to get even. If that makes sense."

Draco's mind went back to Yule Ball. Watching Harry dance with Lovegood, feeling the envious monster inside him cackling at his frustration. Pansy appearing by his side with a bottle, the two of them drunk off their asses and just needing an outlet to that anger. Then the aftermath of the ball, when their night together was revealed to the rest of the class. Harry looking so hurt, and then furious, hurling him with accusations that stirred Draco's own anger. And his own response to them, trying to beat out the hurt with more hurt: " _Just the same as every other kiss I received: completely, utterly irrelevant._ "

"Believe me," Draco said. "I know."

Theo shot him a small, grateful smile that died too soon. "I was determined to show that I was completely unfazed by what happened. Then-then-Harry came back with Diggory, people were screaming and panicking, and it-it made me realize right then how much bigger this world was. Bigger than our stupid egos at least."

Another aspect Draco completely agreed with it.

"Anyway I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for being an arse."

Draco looked at him and nodded. "Well, I appreciate it, Nott. And I accept. Also, I'm sorry for what my part in the mess."

That small, grateful smile resurfaced again.

"As much as I appreciate it though," Draco continued. "I'm not the one who deserves the apology."

And then that smile died again as the two peeked from their private corner and glanced over at Pansy, who was laughing along with Daphne, who managed to free herself from her sister's clutches, at whatever nonsense Blaise was spurting out.

"Yeah," Theo muttered, although Draco knew that conversation would be a lot harder to do.

Draco patted Theo's shoulder in sympathy and made his way out. He then stopped as he heard his name being called the second time that day.

"You've been reading the papers, right? On what the Ministry had to say about what happened?" Draco didn't reply. Theo took a tentative step forward. "Do you really believe what Harry said? About… _You Know Who_  actually being back?"

The small glimmer of lightness he had from the conversation twisted into a hard, acidic knot. Memories/nightmares poured into his head. Two boys tumbling into thin air, one dead, the other the living undead. Hollow green eyes looking over at him, then turning away mashing with the image of a still, calm little boy in bloody pajamas locked in a dark, faraway place that he couldn't reach.

His back still turned to Theo, Draco said. "Considering the fact Diggory came back a corpse with black magic radiating from his body like heavy gas, I think that alone should serve as sufficient evidence."

Draco returned back to his parents and waited beside them, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for his best friend to appear.

Minutes rolled by and students were beginning to board the train, pulling themselves away from their parents' arms, racing their friends to the train. Still no Harry.

That anxious feeling Draco tasted earlier when he didn't spot him came back with vengeance, turning his empty stomach. Harry-he was returning, wasn't he? He-well, he didn't say anything about  _not_  returning. Although, if Draco was being honest with himself, he couldn't blame Harry if he decided not to, given everything that happened and all the lies and attention the Ministry with their spineless excuse of a Minister were hurling his direction. But still.

Those cursed, sharp hooks pulled at his heart, making sure each tear was felt, piercing and agonizing.

Mother toyed with her necklace as they waited. Father pulled out his pocket-watch to check for the time. Draco felt his nerves twisting on edge.

Or...what if Harry was already here? What if he was actually here but didn't want to see him? Didn't want to see Draco? A powerful jerk kicked in Draco's stomach. That-that couldn't be. No, it wasn't possible. No matter what happened, no matter how annoyed or mad they were at each other, they always left the platform together. They'd meet up, they'd reunite, and they'd be off to Hogwarts. It had been their tradition since first year.

So where was he-

"Hello?"

Draco sucked in a sharp breath before he slowly turned over.

Where locks of raven-black hair gleamed in the morning light and bright, deep green-green eyes stared back at him.

Harry.

The anxiety that took over his body knocked into him, changing into an all-new tension. Harry looked the same but he also looked different. His hair was shorter but still messy; a black bird's nest that looked like it was sloppily done. His skin was ghastly-pale, only a few shades darker than Draco's, as if he was locked inside most of the summer. He was also skinnier than before, his cheeks nearly hallowed out as if the summer sucked him dry.

A surge of fierce protectiveness went off inside Draco at the thought.

Those beautiful green eyes weren't as empty like before but they were still weary, hooded. Draco, though, was able to see a bit of amazement that broke through the surface of that hooded cover as Harry looked at him. Almost as if Draco was the one that was missing and Harry was the one anxiously waiting for his appearance.

"Hi." Harry breathed, stunned.

Draco's mouth was open. His mouth was open and dry. His mouth was open and dry and not a single sound came out of it.

He drew back his jaw. He swallowed nervously and licked his lips. Before he could make a move, Mother stepped forward.

Harry stepped into her arms before she fully opened them, clutching onto her just as tightly as she did with him, stroking his hair, patting his back. Mother then extended an arm over to Draco and brought them over to the warm embrace.

"My boys," she murmured. That steady but layered undertone going through her chest, stacking onto her tone.

Draco laid his head onto her shoulder and felt a familiar hand sliding into his open palm. He glanced over to see his and Harry's hands joined together, fingers entwined. Warmth sent off in his chest and he grasped his hand tighter.

"A happy family reunion."

Father. They nearly forgot about him. Harry was the first to break away from their embrace to turn over to the man.

Father's lips curved into a small smile as he examined his ward thoroughly. "Harry, I'm pleased to see you're looking well."

A look came over Harry's eyes, a slight shift that pricked an unsettling chord in Draco. Harry smoothed it out before Draco had a chance to decrypt it, pasting on a soft smile. "You as well, uncle."

Father patted his shoulder, the closest thing the boys had ever received as to a hug. Draco noticed how tense Harry's body was, tight as a coiled spring.

Whistles blared from the scarlet train. Porters popped out from the doors to sound their whistles, ring the bells, and called for the students.

"That's your cue," Father said. "Best be on your way, boys."

Mother pulled them in for one more hug. First Draco, then Harry, and then pulled them in together, her gaze flickering back and forth between them. "Take care of each other."

There was a message hidden underneath her words. Draco fought to keep the frown off his face and suspicion off his tongue as he replied, "We always do."

The whistles blew one more time and the two went into the train. The second the train pulled away from the station, Draco was on the move. Pulling Harry's hand, he strode down the hall and led them into an empty compartment. Harry stepped inside first, Draco behind him.

Draco looked at him, Harry stared back at him, and Draco deliberately locked the door.

He wasn't sure if he was one who made the first move. He wasn't sure if Harry stepped in close to him first or if somehow they charged at each other the same time. All he knew was that they were standing apart. Now they weren't. They were separated. Now they weren't. They were together, wrapped in each other's arms, the heat from their bodies soaking in to each other.

Shivers rushed through his body as Draco left those goddamn hooks finally crack, releasing his heart. The puncture wounds left behind slowly healed, snitching itself together the longer he held Harry in his arms. His frame shaking, Draco pulled back far enough to cup Harry's face. Tearful green eyes stared back at him, the world in his eyes. Draco felt tears burn his own and he closed them, pressing his forehead into Harry's. Their breath mingled, bathing their faces in warmth.

Draco's throat clogged up from the million of words he wanted to say.  _I missed you. I was worried out of my mind. Why didn't you write back sooner? Why did you shut me out? Why won't you let me in?_ But his goddamn tongue was tangled into a pretzel, his mouth useless and dry.

As if sensing the thoughts racing through his head, Harry's hold on him tightened like he was the drowning and Draco was the only thing keeping him afloat.

_Let me in._

Harry swallowed hard and looked up at him. There was little else Draco could do but take a deep breath and dive in, both of them moaning and trembling from the vast warmth flooding into their bodies through the lock of their joint, crushed lips.

Harry's back hit the door with a loud  _thud_  as Draco pressed him forward, leaving little space between them. Harry stared slightly up at him, panting, shaking, so much need in those tear-filled eyes, and Draco groaned, bringing his mouth down on Harry's with gut-deep hunger.

_Mine_ … The chant echoed in Draco's head, ingrained in his bones, burning in his blood.  _Mine!_

Their mouths parted hungrily, heat and breath passing between them as their tongues touched and tangled, electric energy igniting their blood with every beat of their hearts. Draco bit down with gentle force on Harry's lower lip, growling as Harry eagerly pushed at Draco's robe and shirt, making them fall to the floor. Harry whimpered as Draco returned the favor, stripping him to his waist.

Then their positions were switched with Draco's bare back now to the compartment door, Harry pressing close, heated skin against heated skin. They kissed deeply, softly, sensually. Every glide of their swollen lips, every touch of their tongues, every shared panting breath said what they hadn't been able to say in words.

Draco sucked hard on Harry's tongue, saying,  _I missed you. I missed so much I could barely breathe._

Harry moaned and pressed closer, hands sliding into Draco's sleek hair, answering _, I missed you so much. More than I can say. More than you know_.

Draco turned, rolling so Harry's back hit the wall and pressed his thigh between Harry's legs. Draco's heart beat hard and fast with exhilaration as he felt the sweet, thick heat between Harry's legs that matched his own. He swallowed Harry's wanton cry, confessing,  _Merlin, I missed you._   _So. Goddamn. Much._

Harry replied by pressing closer, holding tighter, kissing him harder.

_I want this_ , Draco palmed his heat, relishing in the way Harry melted in response.  _I want you._

It just dawned on him the severity of his plea. It was one thing to kiss; it was another to  _really_  kiss. But this-this went onto a whole new level. One that wouldn't be as easy to come back from.

And yet…

Harry pulled his head back and stared into Draco's heated gaze. Their hot breaths bathed their faces as Harry deliberately spread his thighs to accommodate Draco's body.

In that moment, they were utterly powerless to this feeling, this fire that threatened to consume them from the inside out. Draco grabbed Harry's legs and lifted them. Harry wrapped them tight around Draco's waist, head flung back, their lips breaking apart as he groaned.

_Mine!_

The smell of Harry, the sounds he was making, the way his body opened so wantonly, it burned him to ashes, to cinder, and he wanted more. He rocked his hips into Harry's with teasing slowness as he dragged his heated lips up Harry's exposed neck, over his jaw, until he claimed his prize, sucking and nipping into every inch of Harry's mouth.

This was dangerous, this was very dangerous. It went beyond anything they've done before. It was nerve-wrecking, it was crazy, and yet-

Harry held tight to Draco, just as desperate, just as hungry, and pulled Draco closer. He pressed his hands down Draco's back, touching as much as he could of Draco's heated skin, obsessed with the flex of muscle as Draco held him pressed against the wall. They were melting into a mess of hungry lips and frantic hands and tangled limbs.

_MINE!_

Draco thrust against Harry, giving them the friction they desperately needed. Their moans blending into one sound as Harry ran his nails down Draco's back, over his new scars, causing bolts of pleasure to ripple through Draco's body like lightening.

Draco broke the lock of their lips and bent his head to Harry's neck, sweat slicking their bare chests as he moved against Harry's body. Desire coiled tight in their guts, the pleasure building into a roar. He sucked and kissed at Harry's throat, Harry crying out as he clung onto him.

Bruises appeared on Harry's skin as he frantically thrust his hips against Harry's. Harry's hands slide into Draco's hair. Draco laid his teeth to Harry's beautifully marked skin and bit down.

Harry arched into Draco's body with a whimpered cry, tossing his head back. He came hard, Draco's name passing his lips in a breathless cry, his nails digging deep into Draco's skin.

Draco slammed his lips into Harry's with a hungry growl, swallowing every whimpered moan.  _Mine-mine-mine-mine-mine_ ….His hips rocked against Harry's warm, pliant body twice more before he flung his head back with a cry. It was explosive, whiting out his vision, searing Harry's scent, the feel of Harry against him into his memory, into his very cells.

Together they slide down the wall to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Harry half in Draco's lap as Draco slumped against the bench seat. Their bare chests rose and fell rapidly as they gasped for air.

Harry gazed straight ahead in a blind daze, face flushed, completely breathless. Gazing as if he was studying a complicated puzzle, then cast his eyes over to Draco as if he were a key to that puzzle. Draco struggled to control his breathing as he came down from his high back to reality. He looked at Harry, his best friend, his boy, his everything. Minutes passed. Their breathing calmed; their hearts slowed. Neither of them could look away.

It occurred to Draco that they were in quite a position, limbs tangled, with half their clothes lying in a messy pile on the floor. He remembered there was still so much they needed to talk about. So much they had to say to each other. So much Draco had to say. But at this moment, this was all he needed.

He gave Harry a soft smile, brushing his dark hair away from Harry's eyes. "Stay?" he asked in a whisper.

That strange look he saw at the platform resurfaced in his eyes before it dissipated at once more. "Okay." Harry murmured.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, Draco made himself comfortable leaning against the seat. He pulled Harry more firmly into his side and tucked Harry's head under his chin.


	45. Revelation in its' Clarifying Glory (part 1)

When they returned to the Manor, Narcissa escaped into the privacy of the small parlor room on the second floor. A private place meant only for family and very few trusted friends. One of her favorite rooms in the house not only for its comfortable feel but also for the pictures adorned there, lined along the top of the mantel.

Narcissa stood in front of the fireplace, toying with the gleaming blue-crystal teardrop gem of her necklace as she studied the pictures.

The first one, the farthest on the left, was of her on her wedding day, dressed in elaborate lacy white with her new husband by her side. There were no smiles on either on their faces since her mother believed they were beneath her. Yet the adoration shining through the fresh-faced, twenty year old's eyes made up for it as she slowly peeled her gaze away from the camera to look over at her husband. Dazzled by his beauty, hopeful that the marriage wouldn't only be a manageable one but a happy one as well. Perhaps even loving. Lucius didn't look at her or even smile, but he pull her closer to him, which she remembered taking as a good sign.

Her eyes drifted over to the next picture. A group of four children playing underneath a stream of falling autumn leaves. The two girls were as different as night and day with one curly dark-haired and dark-eyed, the other blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The two boys, on the other hand, looked so much alike with their pale complexion and dark hair that they could pass as twins. The two girls were holding hands as they spun around, the boys tossing discarded leaves at them and at each other, utter joy beaming on each of their faces.

A smile began to lift her mouth as she watched the scene, and then fell as heaviness began to pile onto her chest. Remembering how close those four children were and it all fell away.

Sighing, she moved onto the next picture.

The two girls from the previous one no longer children but young women, joined by another girl by the blonde girl's right. All three of them dressed in pastel colors, eyes cool, smiles flat. The two girls laughed and danced in the other other picture but were strangers in this one. They stood close but it was hard to miss the way the blonde inched away from the brunette, her smile practially nonexistant, and how the brunette's lips pursued from the gesture. Such a contrast to before.

While the brunette and the blonde hardly shared a resemblance, the brunette and the other girl certainly did. Similair facial features, same nose, same chin. As similair as they were, there were also slight differences that seperated them. One's face was softer, the other's sharper. One's girl dark hair the color of dark chocolate and pinned back with barrettes and the the other's black as night and wild. And there was something sinister lurking in her dark eyes as her smile widened.

A chill running her spine, Narcissa swallowed down and moved onto the next picture.

A family portrait taken last Christmas. Lucius seated on a silver chair that was designed as a throne. Narcissa by his right, hand on his shoulder. Draco by Lucius's left, Harry by her left. The two teens managed to keep their faces neutral as they stared straight, but a shared glance caused bits of mischief to slip through the cracks, their smiles small but warm with affection, eyes bright.

Next to that picture was one of those same mischievous boys as children, laughing as they ran through the gardens before collapsing onto the ground, lying side by side. Their clothes stained with grass and mud, hands clasped together, eyes locked onto each other like there was nothing else they'd rather look at.

_My boys._

Narcissa released her hand from the gem to brush her hand over the picture. The blonde child who had rose in his cheeks, the brunette child with light in his eyes, both looking so happy. So incredibly happy that it was heartbreaking to know what the future will do them. Had already done to them.

" _What. The. Hell. Are you doing here?" The words weren't made into an exploding scream but they did hold a sharp anger seething through each word that was just as frightening. The low tone of his voice added more of an effect to it._

_She may not have expected the non-scream, but she anticipated some form of refusal from her cousin which he didn't fail to deliver as she came through the living room. Her eyes glanced around the room, eyeing the dust and webs. "I've seen done things to the place."_

_Sirius glared at her._

" _Though perhaps I'm being too generous and should switch things to_ nothing _," she commented. "Certainly not cleaning."_

" _Please give me one reason why I shouldn't hex you right now?"_

_Narcissa raised an eyebrow to him. "Other than the fact I'd easily disarm you and knock you flat on your arse like I did when we were children," He glowered at her and she continued. "Well, I doubt the Ministry will take too kindly to it, especially given how you're already on thin ice with most of the employees there."_

" _Thus my question: what the hell are you doing here?" Sirius repeated._

" _I'm here to see my see my godson."_

_Sirius's nostrils flared. "Like hell you-"_

_Unfortunately for her dear cousin, the previous days had drained her of her patience. "Let's not forgot which one of us the Ministry trusts more and who they trust least between the two of us," she reminded. "And how it will take is a few words from me to remove said person from the picture if he proves to be a nuisance."_

_Growls ripped through his throat, his body trembling in anger._

" _Now," she said. "If you would be so kind to tell me where Harry might be."_

_The furious glare in Sirius's eyes told her there were a million other things he'd rather tell her instead, all colorful and scratching. But Narcissa met his furious glare with a cool one of her own that slowly melted the fire._

_Finally, seconds later, Sirius lowered his gaze and mumbled, "Third floor, second door on the right."_

_Narcissa expressed her thanks through a nod, and went up the stairs. At the fifth step, Sirius said:_

" _Narcissa…You may not like what you see."_

_She blinked once, then turned over to her cousin. Sirius lost interest in her, pouring himself another drink. Which left Narcissa no other choice but to continue her walk._

_She found the room easily but stood in front of it, hand on knob, recalling Sirius's words and bracing herself for what was to come. She took in a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed the door open._

_She knew from what Draco told her Harry went through quite an ordeal. She knew from Sirius's warning it was traumatizing. But they didn't prepare her for the silence, the pure silence that made her wonder if perhaps she got the wrong room. The bed was empty, the rumpled sheets proof that it was used. The silence was so heavy, chills crept up her spine from the lack of noise. She turned her eyes to the left, where she saw a lounge chair and a table piled with stacks of letters and packages. She turned over to the right, where the moonlight poured in through the wide windows and a lone figure sat in front of it, curled up in his chair._

" _Harry?"_

_Silence._

_She took a step into the room, her hand still on the knob. "Darling?"_

_Nothing._

_Worry slithered through her stomach like a snake. Narcissa took slow steps toward him, the worried knots weaving themselves even tighter as she noticed his huddled form, his lack of movement, his silence._

_She believed she could handle whatever it was. She thought the warnings were in vain but she quickly found nothing could prepare her for this._

_It wasn't the way he held himself, knees up to his chin, arms wrapped around them, trying to make himself as small as he could be that was devastating, even though grief began to crack through her heart at the sight. It wasn't the way his complexion looked so ghastly, sickly pale, white as bone, as if he had been locked away inside the dark for the longest time. It wasn't the heavy bags layered underneath his eyes, so deep, so dark that she questioned when was the last time he actually managed to close them and keep them closed._

_What shattered her heart into pieces was the look in his eyes. Vacant like a rundown house that had abandoned, empty of anything. Of emotion, of thought, and lost. So utterly, painfully lost like the events of the task stole everything from him: his strength, his sanity, his peace. Leaving him so hollow, so broken._

_It was the hammer that delivered the blow to her heart. It was what made tears burn her eyes. It was what made her fall onto her knees._

" _Oh my sweet boy," she murmured._

_She placed her hand against his cheek, but it might as well as have been. Harry didn't notice. He didn't seem to feel it. He didn't stir, his vacant eyes staring right ahead._

" _Bodies," he croaked, his voice dry. "So many bodies...so many secrets. I can't…I just…I_ can't _."_

_A lump burning at her throat, Narcissa brought him into her arms and rubbed his back, alarmed with how light he felt. Apparently nightmares weren't the only thing he was suffering from._

" _My sweet boy."_

_A shudder went through his body but he didn't lift his head or respond back._

_She helped him stand and guided him back to bed, pulling back the sheets, lying him flat across the mattress, then tucking him in. She stayed close by his side and stroked his hair until his eyes finally closed._

_She pulled back her hand and took out her wand. "_ Dormi _," she murmured. A golden light emerged from the tip, producing a small butterfly that looked like it was made from smooth velvet. The butterfly fluttered over to Harry, landing on top of his head. It spread its wings and laid itself flat on his hair, releasing waves of energy that flowed through Harry's body._

_He let out a small sigh and submitted himself to the spell, his breathing growing heavy._

_Narcissa brushed his hair away to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Harry."_

_She walked quietly over to the door, head full, heart heavy._

" _Night, Mum."_

_She let out a sharp breath as if the floor gave out underneath her feet, and turned back. Harry slept, one arm hanging off the bed, face untroubled._

_She forced herself to walk out the room, to walk down those stairs, to walk pass her cousin and the drink he offered her and through the Floo. Each step adding more weight onto her heavy chest._

_She forced herself to ignore the lump burning away at her throat and paste a smile onto her face as she informed her other boy Harry would need his space and that they'd both be leaving for France within an hour. And forced herself not to notice his fallen expression at the news that was just as heartbreaking as the other boy._

Narcissa sucked in a breath and swallowed down hard. She pulled her hand away from the picture and stepped away from the pictures, toying with the teardrop gem.

Perhaps there was more to the story. Maybe Lucius had done what he did to show face, to not raise suspicion.

"Mistress?"

Perhaps he had no choice.

"Mistress?"

But she had seen first-hand what absolute loyalty and servitude led to. Her eccentric older sister twisted into a cruel, ruthless killer. Her younger cousin tortured to death. Her friends killed for their defiance. There was a black smear attached to that servitude.

"Master Lucius would like to know if the Mistress would still join him for dinner?"

A black smear she refused to touch her boys.

"Inform the master that I won't be able to attend," she finally said. "I'll be stepping out for a bit."

"Um," the house-elf took a few steps closer to her, wringing his hands. "Where Mistress be going?"

Narcissa shot the creature a look that made it wince. "Out," she snapped, taking her leave.

* * *

The rest of the train ride, Draco and Harry stayed on the bench of their compartment, entangled together. Draco wasn't sure if it was because of the summer separation, the first one with zero contact, of if the new changes making everything seem so new, or if it was because of what took place earlier that still gave him shivers when he thought about it. All he knew was that he couldn't stop touching Harry. It was a familiar battle he'd been fighting against since puberty, but now he easily gave into its' wishes. His fingers tracing over Harry's bare skin, over the curve of his spine. He couldn't stop himself from brushing kisses onto Harry's head, cheeks, his nose, his chin, his neck. He was fascinated with the way Harry responded to his touch, closing his eyes tighter, biting his lip harder, leaning in closer.

It looked like Harry enjoyed being touched as much as Draco enjoyed touching .Yet as much as Harry seemed to enjoy it, there was a splash of the unease in the mix of his contentment, his body remaining tense, his eyes still hooded. It was because of that uneasiness that kept Draco from dropping kisses onto those lips as much as he wanted to. One that troubled him. One that reminded him there was still too much to talk about.

The closer they approached the castle, the more tension grew in the compartment, breaking the warm cocoon of their moment together, replacing it with jagged ice as memories from the past slipped in. The closer they came, the smaller Harry became, lost in that dark unreachable place.

When the time came for them to dress, they pulled away from each other and got on their feet. The sweat that built up from their intense reunion long since cooled down, but there were noticeable spots at the crotch of their pants. Draco's cheeks burnt and his stomach curled with heat as he wiped the spots clean with a quick spell. They kept their backs to each other as they dressed, almost as if they were unsure of how to act now they were apart. Or anxious if there would be a part two in their reunion.

Draco stole a glance at Harry. He was buttoning up his cloak, each button redone slowly and carefully, his jaw held tightly, his expression troubled and lost.

The two friends silently left the train together and walked out into the cool night. The first years were gathered at the other end of the train, led on by a woman instead of the giant. Draco wondered if the old goat decided to finally let him go.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as they waited for the last carriage. As one finally pulled up, occupied by a passenger focused on her paper that was turned upside down, Harry stopped short and stared at it, his eyes widening.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Don't you see them?" Harry said, taking a sneak peek at him before they turned back to the carriage. "That thing pulling the carriage?"

_Pulling the_ …Brows arched, Draco looked to the front. There was nothing there but the cheap, leather interior of the carriage, the strange passenger whose face was concealed by the paper. "There's nothing there, Harry. The carriage is just pulling itself."

"But I….they…" Harry looked over at the carriage and shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go."

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice beside them. The two turned over as their fellow passenger pulled down her paper, revealing Lovegood's moony-eyed face. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"You can?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Lovegood said. "I've been able to able to see them ever since my first day here. They're always pulled the carriages." She smiled at them. "You're just as sane as I am."

Funny how those words brought little comment.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

Just like Platform 9 ¾ it was a familiar sight.

However, as Lovegood drifted off to the Ravenclaw table, Draco noticed a few differences between the previous years and the new ones. Empty spots dotted here and there over at the tables, most noticeably a vacant spot at the Hufflepuff table that created a somber mood around them, and over at the staff table. And new faces, such as the woman on Dumbledore's left, talking into his ear.

She was an unfortunate-looking thing, like how someone pictured as an old spinster. Short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet, and they were greeted by the sight of a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

Vague familiarity stirred in Draco's face as he looked at her. Beside Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

Eyes locked on the woman, he answered, "That's Umbridge. I recognize her from Sirius's trial. She was the part of the jurors that didn't believe he was innocent-and made her opinions quite loud and clear." A scowl shaped his mouth. "Not to mention to fact she's also the one who's been trying to bury me in the papers."

Now Draco remembered her. A quick glance confirmed she was the pink-clad toad they saw in the sea of somber-faced jurors, and was even more ugly the last time they saw her.

So new faces, empty chairs-and  _stares_. Almost every single pair of eyes turned over to Harry the second they walked in. Some making a point not to stare, most not even caring about subtlety, all entirely overwhelming. Draco felt overwhelmed being near it.

Harry took in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked in, ignoring the hundreds of eyes that followed his every move. He did let out a sigh that sounded like relief to Draco's ears as he walked beside him.

Harry was sandwiched between Blaise and Pansy on one side, his back to their gawking audience. Draco was sitting across from him with Theo and Daphne. Crabbe and Goyle squeezed closer to them, throwing sneers that managed to frighten the on-lookers.

Pansy made a face at the gawking buffoons, scoffing. "If they're going to stare, then they could at least be subtle about it."

Blaise shrugged. "Well, it's hard to subtle when a phenomena walks in."

"Thanks Blaise," Harry muttered dryly." Appreciate it."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I wasn't talking about you, Potter. I was referring to me." He ran his fingers over his face. "It's so hard for the people to peel their eyes away from such beauty."

The comment brought on snickers and eyes-rolls from the friends.

"You are so full of crap, Zabini," Pansy said. "I'm  _stunned_  shite isn't bursting out from both ends."

Harry cracked a small smile at Blaise. Blaise shot him another wink. Draco gritted his teeth.

Conversation (and staring) dropped when the first-years entered into the Hall, lined up by threes, led by McGonagall who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed in the candlelight, a mixture of awe and excitement and anxiety. It was hard to believe that it was only four years that Draco and Harry were one of them, eager to start their new adventure, determined to make a mark onto the school. Well, at least Draco was, wanting to add his own mark onto the impressive Malfoy family tree. He knew Slytherin would be his house, there was no question about that. It was Harry he was worried about. Gryffindor seemed so perfect for him, and eleven year old Draco was terrified at the thought of losing his best friend.

He was relieved beyond all words that Harry was sorted into Slytherin instead, and touched when Harry told him the reason behind his sorting. Little did that eleven year old know, though, what the following years would bring them. The mayhem, the fun, the hardships-and-well, a deeper relationship between the two that went beyond friendship.

Although, Draco thought with another gaze directed at Harry, maybe that was how their relationship always was and they were too young to realize it.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

_'Together we will build and teach!'_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they_

_Might some day be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell_

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry is purest.'_

_Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose_

_Intelligence is surest. '_

_Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those_

_With brave deeds to their name, '_

_Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,_

_And treat them just the same. '_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first they came to light,_

_For each of the four founders had_

_A house in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him,_

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the houses and their founders_

_Retained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The houses that, like pillars four,_

_Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and,_

_Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end,_

_What with duelling and with fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend_

_And at last there came morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Have the houses been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into houses_

_Because that is what I'm for,_

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether Sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you ..._

_Let the Sorting now begin._

There was a slight moment of pause before the applause, although for the first time, the applause were delivered with double-takes and comments concerning the hat and its' strange song.

"Well," Blaise said. "That was morbid."

"Here, here," Theo said.

Draco nodded in agreement. That song was a bit morbid-and eye-opening. From the look on the first-years, it did little to uplift them. If anything, it made them even more nervous.

Slytherin now had thirteen more snakes in its nest, even though some of them didn't look quite as glad. He had a feeling that welcoming song had something to do with it. After the last sorting was done, golden plates and cups and utensils popped in as mountains of food appeared on each table. Rice and baked potatoes, pasta and lasagna, chicken and steak. Throughout the feast, Draco studied Harry, noticing how his plate was only partially filled. He swallowed down a few bites, but mostly shuffled the food around.

At the last bite of pasta and last sip of bubbly juice, Dumbledore rose to his feet, greeted them with a smile, and launched into his usual typhoon of speeches. Welcoming the first-years into the school and reminding them of the rules, informing them all that Professor Grubbly-Plank will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons until further notice, and that-

"Hem, hem-"

A loud, pointed cough cut through his jabber.

Dumbledore looked just as put off by the interruption as the rest of them-put off and annoyed as he turned back.

"It seems my age is truly catching up with me," he tried to joke, but even he didn't look that amused. "We also have another new teacher who'll be with us for the rest of the semester. Miss Dolores Umbridge."

The pink-clad toad rose from her chair and joined the headmaster up on the front, oblivious to the lukewarm response from the students or the looks from the staff, especially the dark ones lighting in both McGonagall's and Severus's eyes.

"The Headmaster is far too modest," she laughed. Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish. A strong wave of dislike came over Draco as he listened to her. A glance over at Harry confirmed he wasn't alone in the feeling. "It's  _Madame_ Dolores Jane Umbridge, senior under-sectary of the Ministry of Magic. Who starting today shall be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Bafflement. That was only word that could describe the atmosphere in the room regarding the news.

Umbridge cleared her throat and clapped hands together, bringing them to her chest. "It's so lovely to be back at Hogwarts. And to be surrounded by such bright smiling faces."

More words met with silence and pinched faces from students un-amused to be talked down at like they were children. Umbridge stepped forward, unfazed.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike. She exchanged a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem," and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation ..."

At this point Draco stopped listening, along with a good portion of the students. Blaise didn't even bother to hide his lack of attention, using his propped elbow as a pillow to nap. Theo dived into another book. Pansy and Daphne snickered over her bright pink cardigan. Crabbe and Goyle snuck in more bites of the leftovers. And Harry-he just focused his attention on his plate.

When the toad was finally done with her speech, which to Draco's amazement turned out to be even more mind-numbing than the old goat, Dumbledore thanked her with a bow and took the stage as she returned to her seat. Once again oblivious to the lukewarm applause and the even colder looks most of the staff had on their faces as she passed by them.

It seemed there was a purpose to the sorting hat's song after all. The next of the man's speech involved it.

"I'd like each and every one of you to ponder on what the hat has shared with us tonight. As most of you know, centuries ago our great school was a merely a dream come to life by four young wizards and witches. Each brilliantly gifted, each different, and yet they were the best of friends. However as time went on, the original mission of unifying magic and Hogwarts being a safe haven for the gifted became overshadowed. By pride, by ego, self-interest, and secret agendas."

Either Draco was imagining it or Dumbledore's eyes were locked in at the Slytherin table, hinting as to who was at fault for the founders' fallout.

"Each house carries a value the founder took pride in. Bravery, creativity, loyalty, and ambition. Those differences,however, caused cracks and those cracks grew to gaping crevices and here we are centuries later: divine yet divided. Each house loyal to its own and conscious of the other three."

_More like three houses conscious around each other and dead-set against one wearing green and silver colors_ , Draco thought bitterly.

"But we are entering dark times. Slowly but surely. And the call for unity has never been more great until now. I implore each and every one to ponder over the founders' story. Ponder and remember this. No matter what crest in pinned onto your chest, no matter of your house, no matter of your status, we are all human. We breathe the same, love the same, bleed the same, and in the end," A meaningful glance over at the empty spot at the Hufflepuff table. "We all fall just the very same. One way or another."

Whispers and sorrowful looks erupted from the words, glancing over from Diggory's empty space over to Harry. Harry glared down at his plate, hands curled into such tight fists; Draco could hear the skin breaking.

_Look at me_ , Draco's glare demanded.

Harry stubbornly kept his head down.

"And to the fifth-years, I also encourage you all to start thinking about the future. As well as your NEWTs that shall be taken at the end of the year. I know it may seem like a lifetime now," Dumbledore smiled. "But I was young once and know easily procrastination can work. How time seems so faraway. The future right at your fingertips. However you will find quickly that time is no one's servant. It is controlled by no one. It waits for no one. Nor does life which can start so easily and be done so quickly." Those sparkling blue eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. Right at Harry. "And how loss of life and time can force one to take up arms and bear the weight of heavy responsibilities that he alone must carry."

Harry slouched further in his seat, Dumbledore's words heavy as a cross. Draco grinded his teeth. If the old man made one more jab towards their house or what happened last spring or at Harry, Draco refused to take responsibility for whatever sharp utensil flew out of his hand. Or whatever made perfect aim at one of the man's arteries.

"It is not just. It is not fair. But we all must do whatever must be done, no matter the cost. Or the sacrifice."

"I  _pity_  the poor fool has who this man speak at their wedding." Blaise muttered.

"Or their funeral." Goyle added.

A shudder went through them at the thought.

Harry didn't join in though. His mind stuck on Dumbledore's words, on Diggory's empty seat, on what happened and more that took him miles away from here. The tension winding his body so tightly, Draco could feel the stiffness from across the table.

_Look at me_ , his eyes demanded.

Harry kept his head down, jaw clenched, fists tight, green eyes so distant.

_Look at me!_

As if his own fingers were placed against the boy's face, Harry lifted his head up and met Draco's eyes. Whatever thoughts that spun inside that messy-haired head of his were covered by a stone wall that blocked Draco's path. A thick, detached, unreadable stone wall.

_Don't you dare hide from me!_  Draco screamed through his eyes. Not after being shut out. Not after a summer apart. Not after what just happened on the train.

_I'm sorry_ , Draco managed to read before Harry put his head back down.

The rest of the speeches and announcements went over Draco's head. Whatever Dumbledore or Umbridge or whoever had to say was white noise to him. All of his attention was devoted to the boy sitting across from him but felt like he was millions of miles away, creeping back into that dark, vacant shell that terrified Draco as a child.

The second they were dismissed, Harry got up from his seat and bolted from the door. Draco tried to keep up with him but lost him in the halls where he was swallowed up by the horde of students.

_Damn it!_

"One must tread carefully when crossing the heart."

It was the dreamy tone that sustained Draco's surprise as he turned around to find Lovegood standing behind him. "What?"

"The heart," she repeated. "Strong as steel, complex as the stars, and brittle as ice. Choices must be made just and swift as cracks are impaled across the surface or risk drowning in the sea of despair and doubt."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco demanded.

Lovegood only replied, "You and Harry's hearts are well-matched, you know. Like two halves. Just as strong, just as complex, just as frail. Choices can either mend the halves together or break them into smaller pieces."

One last smile, Lovegood skipped down the hall to her dormitory. Draco stared after her and speeded over to the dungeons, to the Slytherin dorms, elbowing and shoving his way through.

As he walked over, his mind went over to Lovegood's words. And then to another strange blonde who always seemed to find him at the oddest of moments.

_He knew it was a matter of time before Delacour sought him out. His defense class ended on quite a high note after his face-off with the bamboo and by noon, word about it had spread throughout the retreat like wildfire. Reaching person to person, room to room, floor to floor until Draco's name was on everyone's lips and minds._

_His little show had brought on a range of different reactions. Satisfaction from the teachers and students who had to deal with his daily complaints of not being one of them. Shook from the students who were positive he wasn't and in hopes he'd finally be gone. Bafflement from his reaction and charge of power with some muttering that claws hadn't come in for them until after they came into their full inheritance._

_Draco went straight to his room after class, the whispers and stares stinging his skin, his mind spinning wildly like a hurricane. He stripped off his white shirt, marred with red streaks, and went into the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands. Pumping handful after handful of soap into his palm, scrubbing every inch of skin until every last fleck of blood was off. His emotions lunging inside him like Bludgers that sprung from shock to fear and to the cold realization that he had no more excuses to shield him from the truth._

_No more excuses. No more doubt. No more waiting. All of which went down the drain, following the dried blood and flecks of skin._

_His numb body carried him back to his room when he was down with the bathroom, laying himself flat down on his back. He thought back to what happened at class. He thought back to the times his body became that rigid. He thought back on the times when his emotions were set that high. He thought back to his sharpened senses. He thought back to Harry and how he seemed to be the trigger behind them. He thought back on the last time they saw each other. Then when his owl came back several days later with his father's note and list, he thought back on everything._

_By the time Delacour caught up with him, it was a week after his defense class in which during the time period he spent in his room, thinking and thinking. It was close to nightfall when she finally found him standing by the bridge over the calm river. His crazed, rapid emotions had settled into cool, remote calmness._

_Thanks to the long, hard hours he spent thinking. Thanks to the nasty headlines printed onto Daily Prophet. Thanks to Father's letter. It was honestly less of a letter and more of a list consisting of the names of girls he knew from pureblood parties, from his school and the Slytherin house, from his parents' friend circle. With a small note from Father telling him it was time for him to consider picking out a potential match that would serve as a good bride._

_A bride._

_Acid tore through Draco's insides._

_It was a letter he spent most of his time staring at it, looking at the list of names. Of girls who were pretty, girls who were average, girls who came from respectable families, girls who were purebloods. A girl who'd be picked as Mrs. Malfoy, who'd be the mother of his children, who'd be his dear wife._

_It was now a letter drifting aimlessly in the river._

_Draco's eyes were still on the letter when Delacour came near. He sensed her before he heard her, thanks to her lilac perfume. His back still to her, Draco asked, "How strong are Veelas?"_

_His question was met with silence. Silence that went on for so long, Draco turned around to make sure the girl didn't kneel over from the shock of his question. Astonishment was painted onto her face in clear, almost-blinding color._

_She blinked her shock-filled eyes to shake off the emotion. "Strong," she finally said._

" _Strong enough to take on anything? Other creatures?"_

_There was a slight pause before she delivered her answer. "We are not completely invincible, Draco. No man or creature is. But," She took a step forward. "We are still very strong. We can 'old our own in battle. Even be close to invincible if trained properly."_

" _What other physical side-effects are there? Besides the wings?"_

" _Well, as you saw for yourself, there are claws. Beaks if we are in full rage. Teeth become sharpened but not are entirely fangs, so that's one less thing to worry about."_

_Just one? Draco's frown grew tighter. "And powers? Does it heighten the ones we already have? Can you combine them both? Do you have to use one more than the other?"_

" _Well, the gene will already manifest its own magic. But it does add more of a…kick, I believe you say, to the powers. Combined, they create something entirely great. 'owever," She took another step closer. "When our mate comes into our lives, they 'elp our powers reach new 'eights." Another slow step. "I believe you read the books about, yes? 'ow the Veela is one 'alf? Their mate the other? When the two are brought together, they create an incredible whole. They can channel strength from one another. And power."_

_Draco's mind went back to one of Mother's books. Harry had showed him a page of the Veela and his mate, first changing into a woman, then a man, showing disregard to gender. And the passage underneath it. Different as the sun and moon, equal in power. One with the gene, the other it's half._

" _And when the mate is danger, our senses 'eighten. Our emotions 'eighten. And we become focused on one thing," Delacour said. "Eliminating that threat."_

_The second he sensed dark magic burning from the Moody imposter's body, Draco reacted. Harry was in danger and he refused to let that happen._

_He_ wouldn't _let that happen._

_Much like he wouldn't that dim-witted Italian bamboo said another word about him, his family, or Harry._

_Delacour took another step closer. "Do your questions mean you finally believe what I've been saying all this time?"_

_Draco watched the list of names until it sank into the deep depths of the river. "Just a curious mind opening up to new possibilities. And seeing how I can work this new…development into my advantage."_

_Another step closer. "And the mating bond?"_

_Haunted green eyes came into his mind. The warmth he felt when he first looked into them. The numbing ice he felt when they turned away from him, broken and empty. "We'll see."_

Friends and allies alike called out to him as Draco came into the common room, asking about his summer, thoughts on the old goat and the hag who was joining the staff, his appearance which caused a few of them to take another glance or shake their head. Draco stormed past them, leaving the trail of questions and comments behind him, and walked into the boys' dorms, marching down the hall to the last door.

He took in a long breath, collected his thoughts, and then pushed open the door.

Harry had stripped off his cloak, leaving him in his sweater. He flung it over to the bed in annoyance and rubbed his hands over his face. He nearly jumped as Draco slammed the door behind him, sealing it tight with locking and muting spells.

Harry watched him carefully as Draco cast his spells and walked over to the fireplace, standing across from him. Harry looked so lost, so sad, so tired that Draco wanted to hug him tight and never let him go. To kiss him over and over again until they couldn't remember anything else. But Draco forced himself to keep his distance because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to carry through with it if he moved closer.

Without another word, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the small note Hedwig had delivered to him days before that hasn't left his side.

Harry's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of his letter.

"' _I miss you_.'" Draco said, turning over the letter so Harry would see the words.

His best friend swallowed down hard as he averted his eyes. "Draco-"

"' _I miss you_ ,'" he repeated. "After so many letters, so much silence, that was all I got in return. A small note with three words.  _I miss you_."

Harry looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. He didn't bother denying the claim or making an excuse. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he sat down on top of the trunk.

"I was furious when I was read that letter. Sorry," he corrected himself with a snort. "Not letter. A  _note_." Harry flinched from the lashing whip of his tone. "Actually memo now that I think about. The word count definitely fits."

Harry held himself tighter.

"I think I was madder than I've ever been in my entire life. And you know as well as I do, Potter, there have been times where I have been plenty mad. But this summer I reached a new whole level of angry. I was furious at that damn useless goat we're forced to call a headmaster. All-knowing, all-powerful and yet he couldn't get his lazy arse up to help an underage student get out of a Tournament he didn't even sign up for. Or add a goddamn security system so spectators can see what's going on and the Champions could easily call for help."

Draco waited for a denial. He waited for a defense in Dumbledore's name. Harry stayed silent though, staring at the ground.

"I was even more furious at you." It was as if a gate had broken inside him. A steel-hold, thick gate he kept as guard and base for the summer, crumbling into pieces, releasing the emotions he spent all that time burying out like a flood. "For being so distant, so silent. For locking yourself up and refusing to let me in. When you left to go into the maze, I knew there was something wrong. I couldn't name it. I couldn't explain it. But I just knew it. It was the same feeling I had.. _that night_. So I waited. Two hours and out comes Delacour who looked like she'd been attacked by bears. Three hours and out comes Viktor and you still weren't there. At that point, I was so scared, so worried, I was surprised I was still on my feet. Pansy thought maybe I should sit down, but I shrugged her off me and refused to move from my spot. Then four hours, then five. And finally the last two Champions came out. Diggory was just lying there, staring up at the sky. I knew he was dead the second I saw him and I was so scared. Not just scared. I was terrified. Then I finally saw you. You were so pale like Diggory; you were covered in blood and dirt, and you were so still. I was screaming for you, trying to push my way through the crowd. You looked at me and it was like I was seven years old again."

Draco tried to fight against the chill rippling through his body as memories of that night crept in.

"Halloween night, Severus broke you to the Manor. You were so pale, so dirty. But that didn't bother me." A lump formed in his throat, burning red-hot. "I was so relieved to see you were okay. So happy. I ran over to you but then stopped. You looked at me and it-it was…" Draco swallowed, but the lump protested, growing bigger, burning hotter. "It was like you were gone. Like your body was there but you were dead. I tried so hard to reach out for you, to bring you back. But I couldn't. It was like you were locked into this dark, deep place and I couldn't get through. That was the same look you had in your eyes when you turned away from me in the field. And then again in the hospital wing. I could already feel you slipping before you turned away and ordered me to go. And it  _hurt_."

Draco's eyes burnt from the memory. He still felt that sting. Harry being delivered the news about Moody and Crouch Jr impersonating the man, and being done with the headmaster and his excuses, ordering the man away. Draco trying to comfort him and Harry slipping away from his hold, turning away from him, delivering the same dismissed order.

Harry closed his eyes as he sighed, practically curving himself into a ball. "Draco-"

"Most of all I was furious at myself."

Surprise slammed into Harry's face, morphing into shock as he looked up at him.

"I was and still am angry at myself because…because…" Now Draco knew how Theo felt back at the platform, his tongue tangled around his throat, so painfully exposed like he was standing butt-naked. "If I'm being honest with myself, I haven't been there. Not fully. Not completely like the way I should have been."

Harry shook his head. "Draco, that's not tru-"

"Let me finish," he insisted. Harry reluctantly obliged. The only issue was Draco had no idea what the hell he wanted to say. Or how unload three and a half months of cluttered thoughts and mixed emotions into words. "That night, after your parents' funeral, I swore to you that nothing would ever get in between us. And for the most part I kept that promise, but down the line things started to change. You started to change. I started to change. And I was confused by that. I was mad because I was so confused, which led me to do things that were just stupid or cruel or both. Like the Yule Ball."

Cracks of pain surfaced in Harry's eyes before they vanished behind the stoned wall. "Draco, we don't need to talk about that."

"Yes, we do."

" _No_ ," Packs of steel behind one word. "We don't. It's fine-"

" _No, it isn't!_  Look, nothing happened with Pansy. I mean, yes, we did kissed. We kissed and…" Draco's cheeks burnt as bits of that night replayed in his head, his stomach churning. "We did more than just kiss."

Harry's eyes were remote. "So you did sleep with her?"

"No-yes-I mean-" He had to bite his tongue before it landed him into a hole he couldn't get himself out of. "The way we were going at it, maybe it could have lead to that." He bit his lip and confessed, "It is very possible it could have come to that. But it didn't."

"Because of Theo?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Even before he made his unexpected visit, nothing happened because-"

Because it felt so odd being with Pansy, despite how pretty she was, despite how miserable they both were. Because the sight of her flushed and naked didn't excite him the way it should have. Because he spent so much time trying to feel something instead of actually feeling. Because of that damn voice in his head going on about how wrong it was, how wrong it felt.

"When I was with Pansy, it didn't…it didn't…it didn't feel like...the way it did when I was with you. And that scared me."

Harry just stared at him.

"Afterwards when you found me and we ended up tangled together, it-it felt indescribable. But then you pulled back because it was too much and I was so drunk. You laid me to bed. I asked if you were still mine. And you said to me, of course you were because we were each other's, because I was your best friend." It was like chunks of glass were sprouting into his throat. "Hearing those words didn't bring me comfort. Not like it used to. Instead it made me feel cold. So I spent most of that night going back and forth between confusion and sadness. This summer I spent most of it thinking."

The lump burnt brighter, shards much sharper. Still, Draco took in a deep breath, pushing back the discomfort, and continued on.

"This summer made me realize a lot of things, two in particular. One: I hate change. I grew to hate Halloween after that horrible night because of what happened and all the pain it brought you. I was starting to hate first-year because you were making so many friends, becoming so close to Granger and Weasley, and I hated that I had to share you. More than that, I was so scared that I'd be replaced. I'm still scared of that. And why I hated puberty so much and cursed it to depths of hell. It was like this virus that spread through everything, changing it all. My looks, my emotions, our friendship. Which leads to and conflicts with number two."

Anxiety and fear rocked his body like a wave, knocking everything down to the very bottom.

"I always knew that we'd be friends. That no matter what happened, how angry or annoyed we were at each other, no matter how many changes we went through, we'd always together." It felt like it was just yesterday when he was called down to meet his newest playmate for Sunday tea and looked into the bright green eyes of his best friend. "That'd you always be mine and I'd always be yours. Then puberty happened and it was like everything was turned upside-down. Then I found out Veela blood is in my family and there's a high chance I may become one, which further complicated everything since I started doing things. Feelings things. And I couldn't tell if it was because of puberty, because of the possible Veela gene, or-or if it was actually me. Then more things happened, with you, with me, and I thought about everything."

"Those…" Harry said softly, his voice no louder than a whisper. "Those were the two things you were thinking about?"

"Among others," Draco confessed. "But yes, those were the main points. Thanks to that thinking, I came down to three conclusions."

"Which are?"

Thus, where the hard part came in. Draco sucked in a long breath that came from deep within and flew hot air into his hands. He held them to his sides as he walked over to Harry.

"That this Veela thing…is real. It's real and it's in me. Or rather, according to most of the books say, it will soon be me. I didn't want to believe it. I tried to deny it for as long as I could. Then this bamboo tried to get into my head by mouthing off you and my family, and the next thing I know, I'm wearing half of his face in my new claws."

Harry's eyes widened. Draco made a note to tell him more of that tale later.

"That this dark threat is real. Despite how much those idiots down at the Ministry want to say otherwise, despite what the press says, what Fudge says. It's real. It's coming. I've already seen firsthand what it did you twice already and I refuse for there to be a third. So I plan on helping on however I can, in any way I can." Draco put his hand on Harry's knee. "Because if you have to fight, if you have to go through this darkness, then I'm coming with you."

Taking another breath, Draco continued on. "I swore to you that night nothing would ever get between us. Not Dumbledore, not the Dark Lord, no one. But something did get in between us. Me." Harry looked atonished by the confession, but the steady look in Draco's eyes halted his stream of protests and questions. "Because of my confusion over what was happening, my fear over it. I was such a coward owning up to what I felt because I was so scared of the aftermath. Of the possibility that maybe what I was feeling wasn't real, and then the possibility that maybe it was. Of a greater change coming and it possibly ending us if it turned out badly. And then it finally clicked."

Before his nerves got the best of him, before the adrenaline rushing through his head worn off, before he talked himself out of what was he was about to do, Draco walked over to Harry and kneeled before him. He untwined Harry's arms away from his torso and took his small hands in his own. "I finally realized… and admitted to myself why. Why when before Father sent his letter, I never gave much thought about my future because as far as I knew, it would be exactly like this. You and me. Why I wanted to destroy anything that said otherwise about it. And why when I saw the list of girls he sent and him saying it was time for me to think about my future, I felt sick to my stomach. Why I despise the insect and the weasel, along with their dull personalities, because I still carry that fear of someone else, someone better taking you away from me. Why I was so angry when I saw you asking Lovegood to the ball, even though I had no reason to be. I already had a date. You needed one. Still I was so angry seeing you two. Why I was so angry and jealous when I saw how much fun you were having with her, even though again I had no reason to be. It was also why I went with Pansy in the first place because I couldn't stand seeing you two so happy together. Why whenever we got close, did the serpent salute and continued to do it when we got older, despite the confusion spinning in my head over what was going on, it always felt so right. So amazing. Why, despite a majority of the crap I pull or the shite that comes out from my mouth that might suggest otherwise," Such as the enraged-fueled rant after his drenched self was pulled out from the lake and he was cursing everyone in sight, including Harry. "No matter bad or dangerous things get, I'll always be by your side. Without question, without hesitation because…because…"

He was going into cardiac arrest, he was sure of it. His heart was pounding so hard, so fast, the vibrations spread throughout his body. His hands were drenched with sweat. He was sure he was going to faint any second with his cactus for a throat refusing to allow oxygen in.

"Because…"

This was the end of him. He was dead. Or maybe he was already dead and this was his aftermath, sentenced to mindless rambling for the rest of his days.

"Because…"

How on earth did one disgest and summarize ten years of friendship? It was about as easy as a five year noticing something strange, something more when he shared his first kiss with a boy.

" _You're mine_ ," Draco said. "You're mine." He released his hold on Harry's left hand to cup his face, stroking his cheek gently. "Maybe-maybe it's because of the Veela thing and that's what drew us to each other. Maybe because of fate. Maybe because our mothers thought we'd be good for each other. I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care. Whatever fate or coincidence brought us together, we stayed together by choice. Because the second you laughed at my horrible hissing, I wanted to make you laugh forever. Because when you broke down in your old treehouse, I wanted to take all the pain away. Because when Granger opened up the possibility of you finding someone better, I couldn't bear the thought. Because when you came back from Moscow and I saw you again, these new feelings started happening. And they only grew stronger as time went on. Because whenever we do get close…" Heat stung his face, setting his cheeks on fire. "I want more. So much more."

Those shining bright emerald green eyes were closed yet uncovered. Unreachable yet vulnerable. So tightly-cloaked yet so painfully exposed, cracked wide open for one question to leak through.

_What are you saying?_

Draco looked directly into those eyes, cupping Harry's face in his hands. "Harry, you're not just my best friend. You're not just my boy. You're…you're…you're everything to me."

A shiver went through Harry's frame, followed by another and another until his entire frame was an unsteady as a house of cards.

"And I...I don't-" Draco forced himself to dive underground and dig the words out. "I don't want Pansy or whoever Father thinks will be the perfect Mrs. Malfoy. I just want you."

Harry stared back at him, so many questions and thoughts swirling in those green eyes Draco didn't even know where to begin.

He did know though where it would end. Gathering whatever tattered remains were left of his courage that hadn't been burnt out from his speeches, Draco swallowed down the sharp shards, licked his lips, and leaned in. He brushed his mouth against Harry's bottom lip and tilted his head up.

And wound up kissing the air as Harry pulled away. Draco was stunned as Harry peeled his hands away from his pale face, setting them down on his lap. Then was alarmed by the tears that spilled from those green eyes broken beyond repair with aching devastation.

"Harry?"

Harry's body trembled, hot tears pouring from those eyes as he stared down at their hands, burning Draco's skin with their searing touch. "There…" He swallowed down a hard lump and looked up at Draco. "There's something I need to tell you."


	46. Revelation in Its' Clarifying Glory (Part 2)

Secrets, strangely enough, were much like envy. An odd, curious thing. One that was much more well-known but still painfully overlooked.

Like envy, secrets entangled you into their web either by accident or on purpose, clutching onto until you were choking.

Like envy, secrets took on different forms. Through a familiar face that unleashed a riot of emotions. As an object that first glance looked so ordinary, but in next second become extraordinary, burning like a dark star. A weight, an unbearably heavy weight, like a gallstone in the stomach, an stack of bricks piled onto the chest, that grew heavier and heavier more it was suppressed.

Like envy, secrets consumed. They devoured.

Unlike envy, secrets were much more deceitful. Envy didn't hide its true nature, its' greed, its' pride, its' ugly want and need for something out of its' reach. Secrets were different. Seen as necessities, as important gems that needed to kept safe, even seen as good wrapped around its' deceitful, warm blanket known as good intentions. Even between family and friends, especially between family and friends.

Friends shared secrets. Smart friends knew which secrets needed to come out and which ones needed to stay buried. Best friends that knew you better than you knew yourself and you them knew which secrets were much too dangerous to let out. Due to fear and the harm it could to the relationship. Due to the complexity it would bring to the other person's life. Due to the severity the secret contained and how even a word of it-true or not, suspicion or confirmation-wouldn't just ruin the relationship but the person themselves, utterly destroying them.

Those were the secrets that burned the mouth like searing-hot coals. Those were the secrets that made you feel like there was an animal, big as an elephant, vicious like a wolf, rattling inside, trying to break free. Leaving the person, the friend no other choice but to swallow the coals and bear with the monster, deal with the weight. All in the name of good intentions. All in the name of protection.

Even as the secrets grew. Even as days rolled by and everyone else was clean in their ignorance and you filthy with knowledge. Even as the secrets taunted, showing their ugliness through the veil of good-intention.

_I know something you don't know_ , it sang as you looked into the eyes of the person concerning the secret. The one you were trying to shield from the ugliness. It made the secret all the more happy, its singing innocently-childlike and wickedly-chilling all the more louder.  _I know something that shouldn't be known. Something big, something bad, something that will make you hurt and sad._

Unlike envy, secrets were a near constant like a shadow, always around, always close-by, tangling into dreams when the day was done. And they've haunted Harry the entire summer, from the second he saw Voldemort emerge from the cauldron, from the second he saw strands of pale blonde hair fall from that black hood and gray eyes from the mask, from the second hurt splashed across Draco's face as Harry turned away from him.

And last night's nightmare was by far the worst. He was back in that black room with mirrors. Only this time instead of dozens of mirrors surrounding him like a cage, there was only one that took up the entire front, stretching so far that Harry didn't see how far it ran. What he did see was his own reflection: a frightened, restless fifteen year old whose skin was pale from lack of sunlight, eyes wide from lack of sleep and wild in fear.

Anxiously, Harry had stretched out his hand. The second his finger touched cold glass, a strange curl twisted his mouth that was unsettling, a drop of red splashed in center of his eye before it spread. A vivid, menacing red that completely consumed emerald-green until not a speck of it was seen, holding a smile within its gaze that chilled Harry right to the bone as they stared at him.

Harry tried to seize back his hand, using his other arm to reel it back, but Voldemort-Tom-his reflection refused to let him go, their grip tight and firm as steel.

" _Just as I said before, you stupid boy_ ," Harry's face, his reflection said with Voldermort's voice.

Harry looked up from his trapped hand and instantly regretted it. His reflection was deteriorating before his eyes, skin paling to skeleton white, cracks starting at the temple and branching out, revealing deep-blue veins pulsing underneath. His mirrored self wore a smile so vile, so wrong as he pulled Harry until they were nose to nose. Harry was fighting against menacing sea of crimson trying to swallow him whole.

" _We're more alike than you think_ ," it grinned. " _More than you can possibly imagine_."

What saved him from the continuation of that dream was the pounding of his heart that was ready to burst out. Once Harry was awake, he didn't bother going back to sleep. There were only a few hours left before Mrs. Weasley roused them from bed. Also, knowing his head, it would just pick off where the dream left off or come up with something just as terrifying.

He crawled out of bed and wandered over to the bookshelf. He intended to find something good, a fun story that would take his mind off things. Instead what he grabbed was a photo album. The second he touched it, he was tempted to shove it back and grab something else. An actual book that would take his mind off himself and family but his body had other ideas.

Before he knew what he was going, Harry found himself on the ground, back pressed against the wall the side of the bed, the photo album opened on his lap.

One of the first pictures he came across was a replica of his face. The nightmare still fresh in his mind, Harry was ready to turn the page but the sight of his dad's hazel eyes stopped him. A young James Potter leaned against an oak tree and crossed his face, waving his shaggy hair away from his face with a flick of his head, flashing the camera a smile that was as bright as the Head Boy badge pinned to his Hogwarts sweater.

Harry remembered playing with the badge when he was little as his dad showed him all of the Hogwarts prizes he saved in his trunk, including his old Quidditch gear. He wondered what happened to that trunk. If it was still in the basement or destroyed along with most of their house.

Chilled by the thought, Harry turned back the page.

The next picture was of his mother climbing up the stairs, arms full of books, dark red twisted into a messy bun. She rolled her bright green eyes when she realized she was being photographed, gifting the camera the finger as she passed by.

He continued to look through album. There were more pictures of his mum, ones where she was more relaxed and calmer, sitting outside in the courtyard, relaxing with a book. One of her smiling as she walked through the courtyard, waves of red hair billowing out like ribbons. One of her twirling her wand with a proud smirk before she held it out, ready to aim. His dad nearly flying straight into the camera before pulling back last minute. His Mum and Remus at the library, layers of notes and flashcards laid out between them, looking up to glare at the offender with their eyes burning from anger and lack of sleep. Group shots of the Maruaders that made anger burn in Harry's chest as he watched Pettigrew so happy and chummy with his dad, causing him to flip the page quickly before he gave into the urge to incinerate the picture.

Then there were pictures that made him stop and stare, taking in details. Like his dad trying to steal kiss from Mum and her pushing him away with a grin. Him, Sirius, and Remus out in the snow, initiating a kicking chorus line. A picture taken at their wedding of them sharing their first dance, looking at each other with such love in their eyes like there was nothing else they'd rather see.

It was shocking how young his parents looked, even in the pictures where Harry came along. Especially in those pictures. It was something he never really thought of before but was now a fact that was hard to ignore. His dad playing keep-away with a toddler Harry featuring Leo the stuffed lion and a levitation spell, lowering the toy at Harry's eye level and then shooting back up when he tried reaching for it. His mom holding him over her head and bringing him down for a peek on nose. A small Harry with his parents laughing as they tried decorating the Christmas tree and his poor dad had gotten tangled in tinsel.

Then more pictures afterwards, of his parents at Hogwarts and afterwards. of Harry from baby to toddler to child. And then pictures of his family and the Malfoys. Him and Draco running through the gardens at Malfoy Manor barefooted, which stunned both their mums when they found out. His mum and Aunt Cissa linked arm-to-arm, heads close together, laughing at whatever joke was being told. His dad and Uncle Lucius at one of the Christmas balls, his dad grinning as he talked, waving his hands excitedly while Lucius shook his head and calmly took sips of his wine. It would almost seem as if Lucius was exhausted by his company, but the amusement that lit his face, touched the small smile seemed genuine, suggesting friendship.

_It couldn't have been all an act, could it?_ Harry thought as he looked at the next picture. Lucius standing beside his dad as they watched their sons play on their toy brooms, Dad beaming, Uncle wearing that same faint, amused smile. The invites to those Christmas balls, the invites to their home, the laughs, the smiles. They couldn't have been a ploy to get closer to Harry and his parents? To hurt them-

"Quite a picture."

In a heartbeat, the photo album was shoved off his lap and Harry's wand was out, the tip thrust against Sirius's chest. Sirius looked just as shocked by the move as Harry was.

"K…" his godfather said, hands held up in a surrender. "Well, it's a comfort to know you'll be ready if a creep tries anything funny. Or a reporter."

Dear Merlin. Reality struck Harry like a slap. "Sirius, I'm so sor-"

"It's okay, kiddo-"

"I could have-"

"It's alright."

"No, it's not! I could have-"

"It's-" Sirius placed his hand over Harry's that was still gripping onto the wand and lowered it. " _Alright_ , kiddo."

Harry let out a shaky breath and tucked his wand away. Sirius gave him a gentle smile and joined Harry on the floor.

"Honestly, "Sirius said. "I'd be worried if you didn't react that way."

Except Harry didn't want his reactions to be that way. At all.

Almost as if he read Harry's mind, Sirius said, "Trust me, been there myself, especially in the beginning when I was on the run. Those months were...not the best. You're at constant guard. The slightest move makes your heart race. You keep waiting for something to come out, determined to get it before it gets you. Hell, there were even times a hex just came flying out of my wand to the poor sucker before I blinked." His smile grew more tender. "So believe me, I know."

Harry swallowed but didn't say anything.

Sirius reached out for the photograph and brought it back to their lap, flipping it over to the next page which featured a photo of him and Dad laughing, arms locked around each other's necks. Sirius let out a sigh that sounded both fond and sad at once. "It's been eight years and not a day goes by where I don't miss your dad."

Only eight. Strange. It felt less to Harry.

Sirius looked over at him and ruffled his hair. "He'd be so proud of you, kiddo. They both would. At the courage you've shown and the great man you've become."

Harry bit his lip, staring down at the picture of Mum seated onto Dad's lap, laughing as she played with his hair. "How could you can be sure?"

"Canine instinct."

Harry cracked a small smile that soon fell as his went back to the nightmare and the countless dreams before that one. Of Voldemort and Tom and their faces fusing together, sometimes of his own face being mixed in with the bastard, of his parents and Cedric, of Sirius joining the dead, Uncle Lucius in that silver mask and Draco getting dragged into that darkness. "Sirius…"

"Yes?"

"I…"  _I think there's a connection between me and Voldemort and it's getting stronger. I think-_ know- _war is coming and the Minister is going to damn us all because he refuses to believe it. I think Uncle Lucius may be a Death Eater_. "Could you explain this picture?" He pointed to a random one of Sirius jumping into a lake in the dead of night with his dad laughing and Remus shaking his head.

Sirius chuckled. "An interesting story involving vodka and a dare and forty gallons on the line."

Just as Harry predicted, at the crack of the dawn, Mrs. Weasley marched around the house and banged heavy pots and pans against their doors, calling for them to get up. Or in Ron's case, banging pans and a bucket of cold water to the face, which Fred and George teased him mercilessly for over breakfast which was large and delicious. And would have been better if it wasn't for the subtle and noticeable way Sirius and Mrs. Weasley tried keeping things civil between them, or the anxious and definitely noticeable looks Ron and Hermione kept shooting him almost as if they thought he'd break apart into a shrieking mess.

They were definitely still shocked and rightfully furious at the secret he was holding, which now he was making them keep as well. Since he told them, they hit him with question after question on what he was going to. Did he still feel safe going back to Hogwarts? Would he feel safe being back in the Slytherin dorms? What would he do the next time he saw Lucius or had to had to go to the Manor? More importantly-

"What are you doing to do when you see Draco?" Hermione asked after breakfast, pulling him aside while everyone else was getting their bags.

A streak of pain danced across his chest as Draco's pain-stricken face flashed in his mind. "I-I don't know."

Hermione's lips pursued into a thin line. It looked like she was ready to say something to him but stopped as she stepped closer and studied his face. The way she looked at him, Harry was sure she uncovered the real reason behind his silence. Why he was keeping the secret and why he was so anxious on seeing Draco again. Sure that was the truth was so clear on his face.

He half-expected her to say it right then and there. Hermione instead sighed, brushed loose strands of his hair away from his face, and drew back. "I just want you to be okay, Harry."

"I know."

He almost knew that if anything, he'd do what he'd done the entire summer. Swallow down the hot coals, cage in the monster, and suppress the secrets for as long as he could.

And he did just that as he came into the Platform and was greeted by skepticism and fear.

He did just that as he immediately spotted Draco with his family, seeing how beautiful he looked, feeling longing throbbing in his chest, and nearly hid from view because he wasn't ready.

He did just that when he was about to follow Ron and Hermione into the train but at the last minute turned around, heading towards the Malfoys.

When he looked at his best friend (really looked at him), seeing his amazement of Harry actually being there, loving him more than he ever thought he did.

When he walked into his aunt's arms and Draco reached for his hand and for a minute he thought everything would be okay.

When he turned to face his uncle and saw two sides, one of the man he knew and cared for, the other the madman's servant who watched him suffer, struggling to keep his smile up and his tone even as he greeted him.

Then in the compartment where for a few minutes he was lost in the land of hands and lips and heat until the world exploded in white bliss.

Then was forced to pull away from Draco afterwards despite wanting to be lost in those incredible feelings over and over again until he was nothing, hearing the secret snickering, mocking, singing its song.  _I know something you don't know._

He swallowed it down. He suppressed it. Through the stares and whispers in the Great Hall, through Umbridge's speeches and Dumbleodre's that were mainly aimed towards him. Despite the pain in Draco's eyes when Harry pulled away from him, despite the fact he had to run from him with his jaw aching from his tightly-clamped mouth, despite the fact Draco locked them in their room, looking more furious than Harry had ever seen him.

All for the sake of being a good friend, a best friend. All in the name of good intentions. All because of protection, because he loved his best friend more anything and would rather have his limbs ripped out one at a time than to hurt him like that. Harry swallowed those rocks. He pushed down the beast for as long as he could. He tried to silence that damned song.

Until Draco pulled out Harry's letter that looked so small and pathetic in his hand. Until he started talking, really talking. Crumbling Harry's determination and will into saw paper with each word that slashed pain across his chest, each glance into Draco's face that was open and vulnerable, and those that final words:

" _I just want you."_

That was the final nail that broke his heart, broke his mind into pieces.

If he was the Harry from before, he would be rejoicing. He would be happy. He would be kissing Draco until their lips were numb. But he wasn't. He couldn't. Not when Draco had been so open and Harry so closed-up, feeling the weight of his secret slam into him like a brick wall as he looked into those trusting, familiar gray eyes.

_I know something you don't know. Something to make you hate me._

He thought he could do it. He thought he could manage it. But that speech, those four words that were nothing but honest undid him. So Harry forced himself to move back before Draco's lips could touch him. He forced Draco's hands off his face, folding them onto his lap.

"Harry?"

Several different scenarios plated out in his head.

One of him insisting that it was late, they were both tired, and they should try this conversation again later.

One of him bringing up Kilia and that his heart was set on her. Or better yet, Hermione, knowing it would spark that extra edge. Saying that during the summer they had gotten clsoer and he saw her in a whole new light-one which he wanted to pursue.

Of him gently as could, firmly as he could, harshly as he had to be bash Draco with denial and denial, saying that he didn't see him that way, that he never saw him that way. That he could never see him way since he was just his best friend and nothing more.

All of which made his chest hurt, added more weight to the mountain of secrets topped on his head.

" _If it turns out Lucius really is on Voldemort's side, and he's given the choice between you and his father, which side do you think Draco will choose?"_

Well, it looked like he was about out.

Eyes stinging, throat burning, heart pounding, Harry said, "There's-there's something I need to tell you."

Draco blinked, then blinked again. He tried to reach for Harry's hands but Harry backed away, causing confusion and hurt to hit his face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

His mind went back to second year and how the roles were reversed, where Harry was the one trying to understand and Draco was the one stuffed with so many secrets, fearful of Harry's reaction. Of not believing him, of hating him, walking away. Back then, Harry didn't understand on how earth his best friend could think such a thing. Now, he understood completely.

"You're not the only one who screwed up," he said. "I did too. Just as much-even more. I was stubborn. I was stupid. And-I was quiet through a lot of things when I should have said something." The realization hit him like a blow to the chest, knocking heart and lungs and even stomach ten feet back. "I  _should_  have said something."

Like when Draco kissed him in this room second year after their movie night and Harry, despite all including his shock, actually liked it?

Or when he found out about Draco and Pansy and he was so shocked, so mad (more mad than he had ever been) but mostly jealous? Unbelievably, furiously jealous.

Or even now, with the biggest secret mounted on his head.

"Like what?" Draco asked.

Merlin helped him. Harry took in a deep breath and said, "Cedric and I made it to the finish line at the same time. The trophy was right in front of us and we just looked at each other, wondering who deserved it. Cedric thought I should take it since I helped him out with the dragons. I thought he should since he helped me figure out the egg. We spent so much time going back and forth, fighting about it…" His stomach churned as he realized that was how Cedric spent his last few moments. "So finally we both agreed to take it. That way we'd both win. Only when we touched it, it didn't take us back to Hogwarts. It took us to a graveyard."

If only Harry had just stopped fighting and taken the stupid trophy. If he had, he would have faced Voldemort on his own and Cedric would still be alive.

"I saw this thing coming towards us, carrying something. It was wrapped in this dark blanket and looked so small. I almost thought it was a baby. Then this voice just said, '"Kill the spare.' Next thing I knew, a green light flashed," Draco's eyes widened. "And Cedric was dead. Pettigrew was pulling me towards this tombstone that had the name, Tom Riddle, written on it."

The words spilled out from Harry like broken water damn. He told Draco how he tried to fight off Pettigrew, even resorting to biting the man's hand. How Pettigrew used magic to bring him back to the tombstone, smacking him against it, tying him down. The ritual that was performed with Pettigrew spilling both his own blood and Harry's to complete it. Voldemort emerging from the cauldron, revived with power. How Voldemort summoned his followers, dozens of Death Eaters in their black cloaks and silver masks that answered the call at once.

"From what I made out, they were amazed to see him. Amazed and terrified. Voldemort didn't let any of them forget the fact they abandoned him after he 'died'. And…and…" Dread knotted his stomach as Harry said, "There was one Voldemort was most annoyed him. He said to him that he was hanging by a thread and warned him to make sure it didn't snap. The Death Eater bowed his head and-and…" His stomach was being mangled into a shapeless lump. "Strands of his hair feel out from his hood. Pale blonde hair."

Silence greeted him. Harry held himself tight, terrified of what he'd see if he looked up.

"And when the Death Eater looked at me…I don't think know if it was the color of his mask or maybe the pain was getting to me, but-I-I could have sworn I saw gray eyes looking at me."

Silence. Long, strain silence. The longer it went on, the tighter Harry's stomach squeezed. Licking his lips nervously, Harry looked up and immediately regretted it.

Pure, flinching shock blazed in Draco's eyes. An emotion that was evitable, one Harry always knew that Draco would feel when he found out about his father's possible appearance. An evitable emotion that punched Harry in the gut all the same and caused him to look away, knowing this was just a taste of what was to come.

He explained to Draco how the Death Eater stayed silent as Voldemort verbally-lashed him and moved on. How that same one stayed silent as the rest of them laugh, watching their master and Harry duel. How he and Voldemort were trapped in this strange cocoon when their spells hit each other. How the past victims who suffered from the end of his wand emerged from it. From the Ministry employee Pettigrew used and killed, an innocent elderly Muggle man, Cedric who asked Harry to bring his body back to his parents, and his own parents.

"And somehow I was back at Hogwarts. Cedric was dead underneath me. Everyone was screaming and crying. My head was spinning. I couldn't focus on anything. It was all just a numbing blur. Except for you. I heard you through the white noise and-" He raked his top teeth over his bottom lip, trying and failing to think of a kinder alternative to the set of words he was about to say. "I looked at you and it was like I was back at the graveyard. With that strange Death Eater was looking at me."

A quiver shook through Draco's body. Harry's throat burnt like a heated lump of coal.

"After what happened, I just couldn't deal with anyone. I couldn't handle seeing anyone-"

"Even me." Draco said, his voice remote.

There was no point denying it. The dismissal in the hospital wing and the unanswered letters said enough. Harry swallowed and moved on, explaining his miserable summer. How much of a shut-in he had became, so horrifyingly bad that even Kreacher was worried. How the only places he visited beside his bedroom was the Black library and even that was sparingly. Sirius and Remus's worry about him and their arguments over Dumbledore. Hermione and Ron's fear over him. How each time Draco's owl came in with a letter, he couldn't bear to open it. The nightmares of Voldemort and the graveyard and Halloween night that haunted him every night. Constant back and forth thoughts on the strange Death Eater with the pale hair, toying with the possibility of who he could be.

"One night the nightmare got so bad that Ron and Hermione had to wake me up." Harry said. "I haven't really done anything since they arrived at Grimmauld Place but this time they were really spooked. They kept hounding me all day, wanting to know what was wrong. Hermione knew that I haven't told the full truth of what I saw, and she was right. I didn't. I couldn't. My mind kept going back and forth between what I possibly saw. How blonde hair is a common color, but very few have that pale white color. How the gray eyes could have been a trick of light but also how the man just looked at me. I was so tired. My head just reached a breaking point and I needed reassurance. Needed a sign that I wasn't going crazy."

All of the tension gathering in the air seeped into Draco's body, stiffening it to a tense board. He knew where this conversation was going. Harry wanted to stop, but the words poured out.

"I couldn't tell Severus because I was still processing everything I learned about him. Sirius already had issues with your parents and I knew this would set him off the edge. Remus was already in too many feuds with Sirius and Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley. After everything that happened, I couldn't face Dumbledore. I didn't know what to say to you. Ron and Hermione though…they've been there along us through every crazy episode. And it was-it was getting too much for me. The nightmares, the newspapers about me and my so-called lies, the memories. I just needed a second pair of eyes looking at the situation. Telling me that it couldn't be true, that it wasn't true. So I-"

"You told them." A statement, not a question. A blunt, cold-truth statement Harry couldn't and didn't deny.

"I just-I needed to know." Desperation wrecked his tongue. "I needed to know that I wasn't going mad-"

" _So you told them!_ " The sharp, cold edge in his voice broke the lock Harry kept on his tears, casting them free.

"Draco." Harry croaked.

He had moved himself entirely away from Harry, walking/stumbling over to the fireplace, turning his back to Harry.

"Draco-" He didn't cut him off with words or a glare, but with the shaking of his body. Caused by anger, shock, suppressed sobs, all three or none-Harry didn't know. It hurt though to see.

"And what did Weasley and Granger have to say?" Draco's tone was neutral, not giving a hint to what he was feeling. What he was thinking.

Harry focused on the carpeted floor as if his life depended on it. He pressed his fists against his mouth, trying to cage in the sobs attempting to escape.

"What. Did. They.  _Say_?"

Harry already screwed up. Massively, unbelievably screwed up. Might as well continue on. "Ron thought I was crazy for holding the secret and thought I should tell Dumbledore and the Ministry. Hermione thought it needed to be told. She brought up the first war and how your family was suspected to be on Voldemort's side. She brought up the fact how most of Uncle's ideals were too close to Voldermort's. Still though I couldn't do it. I couldn't let them either so I made them take the Unbreakable Vow to make sure they wouldn't. It was wrong, but I couldn't take that chance."

The only source of sound that filled the air was the crackling fireplace, disrupting the silence, adding more fuel to the tension that was so thick, Harry could hardly move.

"So why are you telling me now?" Draco asked.

Harry's eyes flickered over to Draco. Draco watched the fire.

Because he still wasn't sure about Uncle Lucius, caught between all the reasons it couldn't have been him and all the reasons why it might be.

Because he'd rather carry the weight of the secrets and have it crush him, have Pettigrew hack off his entire arm, have Voldemort torture him with Crucios than to cause Draco any pain.

Because he thought of Severus, Remus, and his parents. How they all tried to shield him from the truth because they wanted to protect him, and how the truth hurt ten times more after he found out.

"Because I love you." Harry confessed.

A jolt went through Draco's body, so powerful that he held himself, gripping his arms so tightly that Harry heard skin stretching over the bone. Even so, he refused to turn around.

"I love you," Harry repeated. "I always have and it took me so damn long to realize it. More than just a friend. More than I do anyone else. I love you so much that it hurts. So much that I couldn't handle the thought of you being hurt and I knew that's exactly what the secret would do to you." His throat was filled with ash and smoke, completely singed from the weight of the coals. "I don't know if he was there or not-I still don't. I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't shake the feeling. I didn't want to tell you because whether it was true or not, I knew it would be damaging and couldn't be taken back." Sobs shook his throat and Harry tried swallowing them down. "Voldemort already took my family. I couldn't let him take yours. So I just kept quiet because I didn't know what else to do. That…" Harry dug in deep and had to shove the words out while he still had the nerve. "And because I was-I am-a goddamn coward. I was so scared of what you'd do once I told you. That you'd possibly think I'm crazy too and a liar. That you wouldn't believe me. That you'd have to make a choice and I'd no longer be part of your life anymore because I know how much your father means to you."

Harry bit down on his lip and swallowed hard, choking out more words.

"But it doesn't matter. I had the truth hid from me. From Severus, Remus, Mum and Dad. They tried to keep me in the dark because they didn't want to hurt me and it ended up doing just that. More actually. And-I can't do that you." He shook his head, eyes filling with tears, tears running down his face. "Not anymore. You deserve to know. And-and if it turns out to be true, if what I think I saw was real and you have to choose," How was possible he was still speaking when everything hurt? "If you have to choose regardless of whether or not he's guilty, then I'll just have to accept it. Because at this rate, if I hold it in any longer, I'm going to lose you." Who the hell was he kidding? "I've already lost you."

He thought he knew pain when he saw Mum in front of him. He thought he knew pain when Aurors suspected that Sirius was behind his parents' murder and he lost yet another family member. He thought he knew pain when he was getting thrown around like a ragdoll by Voldemort, his leg twisted, his head burning, and those followers laughed at his struggle. But this? Releasing the secrets after carrying them for so long and feeling so empty? Knowing the extreme severity of the wrongness of what was done and the part he played? Realizing he no longer had a best friend, that he lost his other half because he was so stupid and such a coward? It was a whole level of pain that made it hard to breathe.

Harry bowed his head and held himself tight, not even bothering to hide from the pain, letting it have at him. Letting it eat him limb by limb, devour him until he was drowning, until he was a thought. Knowing he deserved it for being so stupid, for being so weak-

He was yanked off the bed and pulled into a hard chest, enveloped into a fierce hug.

Harry was stunned by the gesture. Stunned by the fact Draco was holding him when any other person would be cursing him, hexing him, calling him a liar or a coward. Stunned by the tears he felt dripping onto his hair, soaking his neck that was hot and rapid as his own. As stunned as he was, he didn't resist or question, hugging Draco just as tight. Just as hard.

He didn't realize how much he missed this, being so close to him, bathed in his warmth and his scent, until now. How much he really, truly loved him.

"You should hate me." Harry muttered, voice wrecked from sobs.

" _You idiot._  You goddamn, stupid, fucking idiotic git," Draco choked, clutching onto him. "I can't hate you. I could never hate you."

That made tears fall harder. "I should have told you."

Draco shook his head, burying his face further into Harry's neck. " _He_ should have told me. They both should have. You were just caught in their mess."

That didn't make it any less wrong. "But-"

Draco grabbed Harry's face and forced him to look up. "I'm furious you told Granger and the weasel. I'm furious you couldn't come to me and thought pushing me away was the best opinion. I'm furious that you didn't trust me enough, but given past experiences and my reactions to most of them I can't say that I blame you."

"Draco, that's not-" Draco cut him off with a firm squeeze to the jaw.

"I'm  _livid_  at what happened, the parts others played in creating it, the parts we did ourselves but that doesn't change anything. It doesn't…it doesn't…" Draco took in a deep breath and said, "It doesn't change what I said earlier. About you and my feelings."

He was dreaming, that was it. He cried himself to sleep and now he was dreaming. It was the only logical explanation. "What?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Nothing can and nothing will ever change the way I feel about you. We can't undo what happened or what we did or said. But if there's something that can be taken away from this shite and Diggory's death, it's that life is too goddamn short. I already wasted enough time being so scared, so angry, and confused. Well, I'm done. I'm done with all of it. Are you?"

Sincerity rang in every word that came out. There was nothing but determination, determination and tenderness in his eyes. His throat tight and clogged, Harry leaned in until their foreheads were touching, breathing in the calming scent of apples and mint that loosened the knots in his chest. Draco pulled back a bit to cup his Harry's face in his hands and wipe the tears off his face.

"I'm so sorry you went through that. I'm sorry you went through it alone," Draco stroked his cheek. "But I swear I'll make it right."

Harry was already shaking his head halfway through. "Draco, you don't have to-

He pressed his finger against Harry's mouth. When he was sure a protest wouldn't rise, he removed it. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Harry answered without hesitation. Even when he didn't always show it. Even when things were maddening and crazy and turned upside down.

"You-" Apprehension and astonishment swirled in those familiar gray eyes. "You love me?"

Whatever remained of his tattered, bloody heart throbbed. "Yes."

Draco bit his lip. "Do you want to be with me?"

The logical part of Harry said that the timing wasn't right, reminding him of Voldemort and the nightmares, Voldemort's message and Draco appearing hurt in almost all of them. The noble part of him said it was too soon, reminding him once again Voldemort and his words on everything Harry loved or cared for going up in flames. That there was still the matter of Lucius. That he and Draco had their own issues that needed to work out before they attached themselves to someone.

But Harry was tired. He was selfish and weak and so damned tired. Tired of drowning. Tired of the weight. Tired of being scared. Most of all, he was tired of pretending he didn't feel what he felt.

"There's no one else I want but you."


	47. Dreams and Reality Colliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The love you guys have shown previous chapters, especially the last one, seriously warmed my heart. Also news:
> 
> Guess who's birthday is tomorrow (January 17th)? *points fingers over at me* This girl....and I can't believe because this month flew so damn fast. However if y'all wanna throw in an extra review...with some self-made kudos...and cute gifs of either HP (particulary drarry) or BTS (preferably Taehyung), those would be excellent bday goodies
> 
> Happy reading

Two best friends laid on the bed, lying on their sides, hands clasped together, wrapped in a warm cocoon that kept everything else out.

It was a similar position they've been in countless times before over the years. The most significant timing being after the funeral of Harry's parents, when he had broken through his zombie shell and Draco was there to anchor him back to the land of the living, holding his hand tight, his warm eyes a beacon light.

Back then, grief was the wall wedged between them. Now? It was secrets. Secret after secret with fear underlining it.

To get through the new wall created between them, they talked. Talked so much, making up for the months of silence. Talked more freely, more openly than they have in quite a long while-possibly in years.

Harry told Draco of the zombie he became during the summer, so still and quiet that Remus and Sirius were terrified. How numb he was to everything: the time that blurred into days, calls of his name, the news that were discussed in murmurs, even food which resulted in his weight-loss. His annoyance and lack of surprise of the news, the Ministry and the Daily Prophet twisting his words into lies. How writing became his own therapy and the growing pile of journals containing his scrambled thoughts and emotions. The tension between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley, caused by Dumbledore, spread over to Remus with each adult having an idea of what's best for him but not grasping the full picture. Meeting Tonks, who reminded him a bit of Luna with her quirkiness-minus the riddles.

Draco shared his own summer tales. Returning to the Veela retreat with little fuss that was a shock to everyone who remembered his hostility from last year. The tension that sprung between his parents when he and his mother returned home, contributing to his early, easy arrival to the retreat. Mother accompanying him to France, Father remaining in England and sending him countless letters. Getting into a fight with a buffoon that was badmouthing him, Harry, his family. His powers growing stronger.

As the hours rolled on, the words slowed down. Bit by bit until they were wrapped in comfortable silence, shifting them from talking to staring.

Harry couldn't stop staring at his best friend.

Draco was beautiful; a well-known fact few would argue against. Gifted with a classic, undeniable beauty from his pale hair that was practically white, glowing like beams of starlight in the dark night, his face that was composed of sharp but elegant features, his gray eyes. Features Harry knew better than his own, ones that he couldn't stop studying, as if he was seeing his old friend in a whole new light.

Maybe it was because Draco always looked softer at nighttime. Maybe because this was the first time they were together in such a long time. Or maybe it was because Harry was finally out with his feelings. Either way he couldn't stop looking at him anymore than he could stop raking his fingers through the silk blonde hair, brushing his pinkie over the pale hand entwined with his own.

"Stare any harder," Draco murmured, eyes closed. "And it's gonna hurt, Potter."

Harry's face flushed in embarrassment from being caught, but still he said, hand still against Draco's face, "Want me to stop, Malfoy?"

One gray eye opened, lit in mischief, followed by the other. "I never said that. By all means, stare on. My face deserves to be gawked at. Have portraits and marbles done in its' magnificent honor."

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Glad to see your ego is still intact."

_But of course_ , said the smile Draco gave in return.

Good to know some things didn't change. Draco was still Draco and would always be so. Harry had a feeling they could be in their nineties and Draco's ego would still be larger the Europe continent. Harry settled more comfortably in the bed, eyes still locked onto him. How was it possible for old, familiar features to become so new to him?

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise.

"And not-not just because of the Veela thing," Harry continued. "You've always been beautiful. I just didn't see it before." He bit his lip. "You know what I thought the first time we met? What you reminded me of?"

Draco shook his head slowly.

"A prince," Harry told him. "A prince from storybook."

The shock in his eyes dimmed down to a tender softness, Draco's pale complexion flushed from the words, his bottom lip chewed on sheepishly, peeling back another layer that was just as striking as the first. His best friend was so beautiful, Harry couldn't grasp it. Beautiful and smart and arrogant but loyal. Always loyal.

Regret twisted in his chest. He should have known better on how Draco would have handled the truth. He should have trusted him more. Have more faith in his friend. "I'm sorry," he said for what was probably the hundredth time that night. He could say it a hundred, a thousand times more, and it still wouldn't be enough. Not to him.

Draco's bemusement over the earlier comment sobered at the appearance of a frown crossing his face. "Harry-"

"I should have told you the truth right from the beginning. When I woke up in the hospital wing, or just said everything through letters. But I was so scared. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to lose you. Most of all," Harry chewed on his abused lip. "I didn't want you to choose because I was too scared of what you'd picked."

_Of who you'd pick._

Draco said nothing for awhile, staring off into space. He then shuffled closer to Harry, his fingers stroking his cheek. "Honestly? I would have done the same thing if it was reserved."

Harry stared at him, puzzled.

"I would have," he insisted. "Because I'm that selfish. I'm that cowardly. I wouldn't be able to handle losing you either."

Although the words did soothe him, Harry still had to say, "I'm sorry."

Draco sighed. "Like I said, Potter, you have nothing to apology for. They should have told me the truth," His frown deepened. "It actually explains why things have been so tense between them. Why Mother kept her distance."

It dawned on Harry that during all the time he spent shuffling between his uncle's innocence and guilt, the possibility of his aunt being part of Voldemort's cult never once crossed his mind. Thinking on it, he couldn't see it. He couldn't imagine her following anyone, especially a madman even if her sister did. And her husband possibly.

"Also," Draco continued. "It would explain why Father gave me the family ring. Well, one of them anyway."

Unease stirred in his chest, curling in his stomach. Draco mentioned the last letter his father sent him before he came back home, the match that triggered the match with his classmate that ended bloody. A letter that contained thoughts on the future and a list of matches that could possibly be part of it.

It wasn't that surprising since even as kids, Lucius would talk to Draco about him taking on the responsibilities of the Malfoy manor and finding the right partner worthy of that name. Knowing though that a list was made of potential matches finalized the notion, turning it from thought to reality.

"So this list?" Harry said, attempting to make his voice light. "Anyone on there we know? Daphne? Pansy?"

Draco raised his eyebrow, making Harry regret asking. Regret that sharpened as the frown on Draco's changed into a cheeky smile. "Jealous, Potter?"

" _No!_ " His face burnt by the shrillness in his voice.

Draco's grew in length and mischief as he inspected hi m closer. "You are," he practically sang.

Harry ducked his head in an attempt to stop his face from burning. And to keep him from knocking that smile off. "Shut up!"

"Oh this is just delicious."

"Oh, like you haven't been jealous before!" Such as Blaise, whose comments and smirks triggered too many threats. Hermione, Ginny, Kilia from Hawaii, even Luna just to name a few.

"Hence why I'm enjoying this so damn much." Draco gleed. "Who would have thought Saint Potter could harbor such dark emotions?"

" _Shut! Up!_ "

"The Chosen One, The Golden Boy, The Great Solider of The Light who can withstand dementors, rats, and Death-eaters. Even the Dark Lord himself yet is brought to his knees by the heavy, unescapable grip that is jealously. As mighty, as green as his eyes themselves." Draco gasped. "The scandal of it."

_Cheeky smug bastard!_ Harry rolled over to the other side, irritation and mortification stinging his cheeks. Seconds later, he felt a set of arms wrapped around his waist and a pointy chin nuzzled against his hair.

"I don't know who was on the list," Draco answered. "I didn't care enough to see. Though I'm sure the fish must be enjoying the scrapes I feed to them." Draco nuzzled against him. "Besides, I already know who the one for me is."

Harry bit his lip to stop the smile threatening to grow on his face.

"I am curious on something though, Potter."

Harry lifted his head to look up at him.

"When did you realize you have feelings for me?"

And suddenly Harry was in a great mood to hear more of Draco's gloating over his jealously. It was ridiculous that after everything, all that was said and shared, after the rounds of embarrassment he went through, that was the question that set his body to humiliating heights.

And made Draco's amusement all the more infuriating.

"You first!" Harry snapped.

"No, no." Draco shook his head. "That's not how it works. I asked the first question, so you give the first answer. A lead and a follow. See how that works?"

Oh, he saw perfectly. Just like how he saw perfectly how a good punch to the jaw would knock some humility into the prat. "Well…" Harry resisted the urge to rub the burning nape of his neck. "There-I suppose…there were a lot of signs."

Draco moved closer, his smile summed up in two words:  _go on_.

Doing little to resist his eyeroll, Harry said, "Looking back, I suppose feelings were always there. In the little moments, the not-so little moments. Like when I saw one of Quirrel's spells hit you during our fight. I was more scared of him hurting you more than him me. Or…second year, where we tried the serpent salute again. The summer before third year, when we tried it again and it felt…different."

Thankfully he wasn't the only flustered one. Draco's cheeks were splashed in pink.

"When I got jealous seeing you with Daphne at the Christmas ball. And when I got jealous again when you took Pansy to the Yule Ball. And…and what happened afterwards." Heat surged through his veins, pooling in his lower gut as he thought back on it.

Heat that intensified as he glanced up into his best friend's searing eyes, forcing himself to look away before he lost his head entirely.

"I know it may not seem that way to you, but believe me, I wanted to. So bad. But I couldn't. You may have wanted it, but you were pissed-drunk. I couldn't do that to you. It was actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about the next morning, but well…"

Theo shared other events that went on during and outside the Yule Ball. Pansy left in anger, Theo in rage, Harry both and with a hurt so shattering he was shocked he managed to walk out of the Great Hall on his own two feet.

"Then the morning of the second task happened and I can't tell you how scared I was when I found out you were taken. How scared I was when I saw you floating around like a corpse. How relieved I was to pick up a pulse that I almost cried on the spot. Even after all the rants and threats you made against Dumbledore and everyone and having all their heads, terror and relief turned in my stomach over and over again until I thought I'd pass out. Then it just clicked. Why I was so terrified when I found out you were gone. Why I was so hurt over the Pansy thing. Everything. And it was because…" Each hard, wild beat of his heart made was a vibration that pulsed through his whole body. "I love you."

The self-pleasing smile on Draco's face melted away.

"I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure how so I kept it a secret for months. Then the day of the third task, I wanted to tell you. That was my plan afterwards, and then…well you know the rest."

Cedric got killed. Voldemort returned. Harry barely escaped. And was unable to look Draco in the eye because it reminded him too much of the strange Death Eater.

He could feel the reminder slicing through their warm barrier like a knife, exposing them to the cold. "So what about you?"

Draco looked away, lost in thought before those grays snapped back to him. "Well like you said, there were a lot of signs leading up to it. Problem was we were both too stubborn and dense to pick up on them. You more than me."

Harry scowled, but inclined his head in a go-on gesture.

"For me, though, the stepping stone was the Yule Ball. When I saw how happy you looked with Lovegood, I was so angry I couldn't see straight. That's why I left with Pansy in the first place. When I was with her, all I could think about was how wrong it was compared to us being together, which scared and confused me. And when we were together…if you haven't pulled away…I honestly do think we would have gone further that way. All I remember thinking was me wanting us to go to the stars. And then you tucked in and I asked…" A frown pinched his mouth. "I asked if you were still mine. You said, of course I was, I always would be because we're best friends. Those words for the first time in years made me sick to my stomach. They didn't feel enough anymore." His eyes settled on Harry's. "Now I know why."

Harry shuffled together, entangling their feet together. "We're idiots."

"Speak for yourself, Potter."

"You lead that movement, Malfoy, by being a stubborn arse," Harry smirked at him. "I simply followed your lead."

"Git."

"Prat."

One look at each other and laughter spilled between them.

"So," Draco said once it died down. "Just to clarify and make sure we're both on the same page. Are we really doing this?"

This meaning them being together, actually together? No longer just best friends but more? It was so unbelievable, so baffling, and completely terrifying. "Yeah," Harry said. "I guess we are."

"So you liked the kisses?" Draco asked. "All of them?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, the first one. The second one. The one at the beach. The one after the ball. The one before the third task."

Draco shuffled closer until their noses were nearly touching. "Even the one at the train?"

Dear Merlin, that kiss. Goosebumps nipped at his skin from remembering it. "Especially that one."

"And..." Pink tinged his cheeks, hesitation painting his tone. "You love me?"

"So damn much."

Draco bit down on his bottom lip. That crack of vulnerability tugging at Harry's heart, which attracted him from the first time they met. "Can you say it again?"

"I love you." More than anything.

Draco shivered as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against his. "Again."

"I love you." So much that it hurt.

"Again."

"I love you." Harry caressed his cheek. His hand drifted down to his mouth, a finger tracing against his lower lip.

Draco caught the finger and kissed it. So softly, so sensually that fire swept into his body. He dragged his teeth against skin.

_Merlin…_

"Again," he requested, his eyes smoldering.

"I love you."

Their lips met and the world fell away like the faded notes to a song. It was jarring how shockingly familiar the touch was yet dangerously new the connection was each time it was forged. Like falling into an old favorite book and discovering the impact that was overlooked before.

_Mine_ , Draco said with a sweep of his tongue.

_Yours_ , Harry told him with a slow caress.

Next thing Harry knew he was pulled onto Draco's lap and being consumed by a ravenous mouth and teeth and hands. He was being devoured; he was thrown headfirst into the pit of the dragon and fell into it happily. He let himself be burnt. He allowed himself to be torn apart with each passionate kiss that wrecked him, each touch that seared his skin, leaving marks behind which were invisible to the naked eye. He didn't need to see them, though, to know that they were there; Draco's touch leaving a lasting imprint behind.

Harry was released from the intense lip lock and barely managed to catch his breath, loud pants being squeezed from his lungs. Draco laid underneath him, his eyes glowing silver and his chest heaving up and down – clearly he was as affected as Harry was and that pleased the dark haired boy.

Draco's pale hands skated down Harry's face, his thumb pulling at his bottom lip, brushing across the hint of teeth briefly. Then those hands drifted down his neck, over his collarbone, danced over his sides, before resting at the hem of his nightshirt.

Harry swallowed and, with shaky hands, pulled the shirt off, dropping it onto the floor.

The way Draco stared at him...It was like another set of hands were on him, running over his heated skin, not missing a single inch.

Harry's heart pounded so hard, he was stunned it hadn't burst from his chest yet. Though the way Draco watched him carefully, he knew fainting might occur in the near future if he didn't move soon. Swallowing down another nervous lump, Harry reached over and helped rid Draco of his own t-shirt. The second Draco was freed, he grabbed for Harry, crushing their lips together.

Hands explored and mapped out bare skin. Pants were shoved away, pushed to the floor. Cocks were freed, bare and tender, lined against each other. Joined in a dance as wild as the one their tongues were entangled in.

Frantic. Wild. Desperate, clashing with every collision, every meeting of their tongues. Feeding into the heat that grew.

That sang.

That swelled.

That burst-

Harry wailed as he came, clutching onto Draco as he broke apart into millions of pieces; tremors wrecking his body as pleasure coursed through his veins, igniting every last cell in his body. He shuddered and shook, feeling like he would burst apart if Draco wasn't anchoring him with his touch, his lips.

Draco thrust once, twice, four more times and came hard, coating both their stomachs, gripping onto Harry's shoulder and side so hard bruises were bound to show up tomorrow.

It was like they were flung off the world's axis, spiraling wildly through midair, weightless and free before finally landing back to solid ground. Once they landed, they caught each other's eyes and shared a kiss that singed whatever remains were left of them.

A string of chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth when they pulled apart. Draco joined in after he cleaned them and their sheets with a quick spell, wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling his nose against his.

"Say it again," he said. "Once more for extra measure."

Harry raised a brow at him. "You're going to be milking this in, aren't you?"

"I waited a good year for you to be caught up, Potter. I'm afforded that right."

"Should I make it your wake-up call then?"

Draco pinched his arm and smiled.

Annoyed as he was, Harry couldn't keep his smile down as he brushed away damp, loose strands from Draco's face. "I love you."

Draco kissed him softly.

"I love you."

He kissed him again.

"I love you."

* * *

Two thoughts came to Sirius's head when a familiar white dove arrived at the window of his and Remus's bedroom.

Actually four. The very first being, who was hell did she belong to? He hadn't seen the bird in so long, he almost blanked on the name of the owner.

Second, how long had the little pervert been there at the windowsill and did she just treated to a front seat to the x-rated show he and Remus just performed?

Those were the first two thoughts that came to his head, followed by two more important ones.

_What this a joke?_  That was the third thought that popped up after reading the note attached to the dove's ankle, then read several times more to make sure the sex and exhaustion weren't mucking with his brain.

Fourth thought:  _why there of all places?_

It was a question that bounced inside his head minutes later as he stood in the destroyed living room of the Shrieking Shack. He hadn't been there since the kiddo was in third year and he came close to exterminating a rat. Although the shack was Remus's refugee during his wolf-outs and became one to him back when he was enemy number one to the Ministry, he couldn't deny or fight back the chill that crept up his spine as he glanced around the place.

Merlin, it was even more creepy than he remembered. He never understood how Moony could stand being here longer than necessary. He'd rather than his chances in the Forbidden forest.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show."

Sirius turned around to see Narcissa strolling into the room, wrapped in a mink shawl, moving in a fluid grace that would have made his aunt proud. "Why's that?"

"Well, our previous encounters usually end with your barking."

He scowled. He'd happily show her barking and biting if she kept pushing him.

"I'll be frank," she continued. "Most times I can't tell if you keep at it since you need an outlet for your anger. Or if you harbor feelings for Lucius."

_Feelings for who?!_ "Don't you dare insult my tastes!" Sirius said, breaking into a shudder.

"Pardon me if I have to question the taste-and the mindset-of a petulant child."

"Well forgive me if I'm not up for holding hands and singing Kumba with a backstabbing snake who turned her back on her own sister."

Narcissa met his furious gaze with a cool one of her own. "You mean the way you turned yours on Regulus?"

Sirius's wand was out in an instant, aimed at her throat. He didn't back down, even when he felt her own wand pressed against his guy, the magic of a dark hex stinging through his clothes.

"Do _not_  go there!" he hissed.

Her cold eyes narrowed. "Do not attempt empty threats that will only cost you blood." She warned. "More importantly, do not let the pearls and heels fool you. I am not a helpless pet, Sirius, nor am I a empty-minded trophy wife. I highly suggest you remember the fact that I am a Black. I also highly suggest you remember the number of times we met in this position and the number of times I knocked you down on your arse with only one move."

Sirius would love nothing more than to meet her challenge and remind her she wasn't the only Black with dark hexes up their sleeve. But the sound a throat clearing interrupted and called their attention over to see Snape seated on the couch, watching them.

Those black eyes looked to Narcissa. "As amusing as it would be to watch you handle the mutt, it is late and despite what rumors suggest, I do in fact require sleep. So instead of behaving like smiple-minded children, why not explain your reasoning for us being here?"

Sirius blinked, his earlier annoyance gone. "How long have you been there?"

A scowl was used as a response.

"Happily," Narcissa said, then glanced over at Sirius. "That is if my cousin is through with his tantrums."

Sirius's blood still shimmered from her earlier comment. For what she did to him, to Andy, to his brother. But he was curious on why she decided to bring them together, so he put away his wand, swallowed down his pride, and sat down on the dusty couch, leaving space between him and the bat.

"Alright, Cissy," he grunted. "You sent the letters asking us here. Why?"

Narcissa walked over and stood in front of them, cool blue eyes shifting from him to Snape and back again. "I brought you two together because whether the Minister chooses to believe it or not, whatever scheme Dumbledore is hatching in that office, war is coming."

Shivers that had little to do with the house crept up his back like lice.

"And our boys are going to be right in middle of it."

Those shivers changed to pure ice.

"Lucius has confirmed it?" Snape asked.

Narcissa gave him a thin-lipped smile that reminded him of the verbal spats she got into with Fudge that practically left the man bloody and raw. "Lucius, and all matters related, at the moment are irrelevant."

Against his better judgment, Sirius's eyes glanced down at her hand, stunned to find her finger bare of its ring. "Is everything alright?"

Another thinned-lip smile served as her answer.

He decided to try again with another question. "You mentioned that the boys will be right in the middle of the war. You mean-"

"Exactly as I said it. Our boys. Your godson," She said to Snape, then looked to Sirius. "Your godson. My sons. They're going to be fighting the war and they're going to need weapons in order to win it. Which is where we come in."

Sirius glanced over at Snape, who was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Then looked back at his cousin who was watching him carefully.

He didn't trust her anymore than he did Snape but he made a promise when he was handed his godson for the first time and looked into his innocent face, swearing to never anything happen to him. A promise he made when he came back to Europe after all those years to prove his innocence and make things right. A promise he made when he saw what grief and anger and self-blame morphed his kiddo into.

That he'd protect Harry no matter what. If he had work together with the devil spawn and she-witch to do so, then so be it.

Sirius leaned forward in his chair, laced hands rested on his lap. "What do you want us to do?"


	48. The Harsh Light of Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the birthday wishes. Made the day more warmer. Fair warning: I feel like y'all may wanna post two comments for this chapter. One reason is obvious, the other...will be explained later in the ending note

_The boy was beautiful._

_An aura of serenity surrounded him, outlining his body, topping his head like a white-gold crown. An aura that drew attention to his pale skin that was radiant as a pearl. The lean, sharp angles of his face, of his bare chest and nipples that were as pink as his thin lips. That stunning head of pale, white hair._

_So beautiful._

_Almost as if he could read his thoughts, gray eyes fluttered open, dazed in sleep that slowly broke apart as warmth flooded into his gaze a he looked at him. A fond smile curved that pink mouth, his name spoken in a low breath._ Harry _._

_A smile curved his mouth as he leaned closer to the beautiful boy and touched him. His hand glided down his cheek, across his nose, down his chin, and grasped onto his neck._

_What...Harry tried to release his grip, he tried to pull away, but it was like communication between his thoughts and limb were out of sync. One demanded release, the other latched on. Tight._

Stop! _Initial shock flared into fear in Draco's eyes as he covered his hands over Harry's, pulling away, shoving him back, struggling to break free. His attempts were futile as Harry's._

No, no, no! Stop! _Harry commanded._ PLEASE. STOP.

_His hand loosened its' grip for a split second, lifting Harry's hope that it was over. That maybe it was just a spasm of muscle. His hope was butchered when his hand reclaimed its' hold and squeezed Draco's neck, so tight Harry felt the muscles staining. Felt the bones bending. One of Draco's hands flew to Harry's face, any trace of previous warmth gone from his face, and tried to push him away._

Beautiful _, chimed another voice in Harry's head, dark mirth underlying the admiring tone._ Beautiful as a bird.

No!

_A_  beautiful, delicate bird _, Voldemort continued._

_The hand's grip tightened, squeezing the bones together, dimming Draco's fighting to wheezing gasps and weak struggling._

DON'T.

And like all beautiful, delicate birds _,_ their wings eventually get clipped.

_Harry felt rather than heard the sound of the chilling crack. Sounding as loudly as the crash his heart made, deformed into a mangled pulp, dropping all the way down to his toes_

_Draco's hollow eyes stared at him, his limp hands falling from Harry, onto the bed._

The price made _, Voldemort continued over Harry's shock, his pain._ For loving monsters like us.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, rattling like an imprisoned butterfly as his eyes snapped open, his heart beating so furiously, he grasped onto his chest to keep it in.

A dream, he told himself. It was just a dream. One hell of a nightmarish dream he hoped that was the last time he ever saw it.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to see him pressed against him, his chest to Harry's back. It was maddening seeing him alive and well while his dream-self was dead, those hollow eyes burning into Harry's mind.

_I'm fine_ , the automatic words set on his tongue, ready to fire. The same words he had been saying over and over again the entire summer. He promised himself he wouldn't shut himself away, not with Draco.

"Nightmare." he finally answered.

"The Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded, a tight knot in his throat.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I-"Harry sucked in a deep and swallowed hard, saying, "Later."

There was a second of silence, and then-"You promise?"

Harry nodded. "I promise."

Draco kissed the skin behind his ear, holding him tighter. He didn't offer reassurance. He didn't say it was okay when they both knew there was a storm waiting for them, waiting for Harry. But the simple action said more than words could, offered more comfort.

The set of arms around him, the feel of bare skin brushing against bare skin reminded him of everything that happened last night, easing the anxiety brought up by his dream. "So…last night?" he began, cheeks hot.

"Uh-huh." Draco finished. "It was-"

"I know." Harry nodded with a small smile, needing no other words. He cast a quick time spell, seeing it was a quarter to seven. "We better get ready for breakfast."

Harry stretched out his arms and worked to peel off the warm duvet from his body, then was yanked back into Draco's chest, arms snaking around him.

"Draco."

" _Nooo._ " he whined.

A chuckle burst from Harry's lips "You know, we do need to eat."

"Five more minutes," he begged, his lips brushing against the back of his ear, trailing alongside his neck.

"We shouldn't." Harry tried to keep his wits about him. "There'll barely be anything l-le-left." That damn mouth was ruining his concentration, mapping out spots he didn't know were sensitive until now.

"Five." One kiss on his neck. "More." One kiss to collar bone. "Minutes." One soft, lingering kiss his shoulder blade that made sparks crackle up his spine.

Harry laughed again and then shivered as fingers raked down his side. He wondered what the school would think if they knew the cold Slytherin prince was actually a soft, lazy cat behind closed doors. "Alright, alright," He gave in with a sigh. "Five more minutes." He grabbed Draco's knuckle and kissed it.

He was rewarded with another kiss against his shoulder blade, and a firmer hold around his waist. Chuckling, Harry laid his head back down on his pillow.

Five minutes came and passed. Then five more minutes after that. Then five more after that.

When it was almost a quarter to eight and the chance of there being nothing left at the table but bran muffins, they finally pulled away from each other and got out of bed. Emptying bladders, brushing their teeth, taking a quick shower. There was an intense sensation hovering in the air afterward though as they were changing. Sharing a room for almost twelve years, they were used to changing with the other nearby, but now it was like they gained a sixth sense on each other. Hearing every rustle of clothes brushing against skin. Sensing every button tucked, every collar fixed. Catching glimpses of bare skin, patched with marks made from last night that added more fuel to the electric charge in the room.

Tugging on his sweater, it hit Harry that soon he'd be walking into what he feared about. Walking into a room and being surrounded by sharks thirsty for his blood, just waiting to see him squirm. He had a taste of that fear last night during the Welcoming feast. Merlin knew what he'd be waking into today.

Draco's hands slipped into his.

Stunned, Harry looked down at their hands before meeting his best friend's eyes.

"Is this okay?" Try as he might to appear nonchalant, Draco couldn't hide the sheepishness that crept in.

Harry entwined his fingers through Draco's, squeezing. "More than."

The relieved, soft smile Draco and the squeeze he got in return made any additional shite Harry would get worth it.

"So," Draco said once they got their bags together and set out to the common room. "I think I deserve a new title."

"A new title? Did you become the queen of England over the summer and didn't tell me?"

Draco squeezed his hand. "The royal family wishes I was part of their line."

Chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth. "Well, you're already my best friend-"

"And favorite person ever."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "And favorite person ever. Well, what about best mate?"

Draco hummed thoughtfully. "I don't mind that but I can think of a better one."

"What?"

"Boyfriend."

They walked straight into silence. Thick, heavy silence featuring jaws slacked, eyes widened, every Slytherin's attention on their entwined hands and Draco's recent word.

_Oh…Merlin…._

Harry was suddenly hit with great mourning of their warm, cozy bed. Maybe he should have skipped breakfast and stayed in longer like Draco wanted.

Blaise broke away from the stunned group, mouth agape, eyes locked on their hands before he turned back to their housemates and said, "Every single one of you saps owe me money!"

_What?_

Daphne marched over to him with a scowl and punched him in the arm. "Not so fast, Zabini. I believe half of those wages go to me."

"Alas sadly no," Blaise danced away from her next hit. "You bet that something would happen between fifth year before the holidays. I was set on fifth year, within the first school month since the sexual tension was getting as thick as Draco's ego. And Harry's obliviousness."

Harry choked on his saliva. Draco stammered beside him.

"So," Blaise went on, ignorant of their stunned state. "each one of you suckers owe me ten gallons."

"You mean to say-" Harry began.

"That you dolts betted on us." Draco finished.

As if the moment couldn't get any more bizarre, Crabbe of all people who most times was out of reality, attention typicalled fixed on food or a game, looked at them both in sympathetic exasperation, as if they only just crossed the finish line the rest of them have made hours ago. "We've been wondering, guessing, and betting on when you two would finally get together since second year."

"Then the stakes got higher last year after the second task at the Tournament," Goyle added. "When you raced into the lake and Draco came out looking like a wet cat."

"A very angry, hissing wet cat." Theo muttered under his breath. Pansy looked like she was about to chuckle, but caught herself and looked away, arms folded against her chest, remembering who said the comment and the fact she was still mad at him.

Daphne gave a small smile. "I mean the way you two are, attached to the hip, always together, we figured it was a matter of time."

"And the fact Malfoy looked like he was about to have an orgasm when Potter broke into snake mood." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Sexual tension was so thick, I was suffocating under it. But no matter," He smiled. "You two finally got your heads out of your arses and are together. More importantly, thanks to you numbskulls, I am now a very rich man."

"And still an idiot." Theo muttered.

Blaise smirked. "A very rich idiot."

Theo rolled his eyes.

Pansy marched over to Harry and Draco. She smacked Harry in the arm so hard that pain spread over to the other arm. "I had better be the maid of honor to the wedding." She then whirled around to Draco and struck him just as hard, hitting him so hard his bag's strap fell from his shoulder. "And I had better be the godmother to one of your kids."

_Wedding? Kids?!_

"Preferably first born or first daughter." Pansy waved a dismissive hand, shrugging. "Whichever comes first."

Of all the ways their friends and housemates to react to news of them being together, it definitely wasn't what Harry had in mind. He feared hostility. Not because they were both blokes since they were dozens of same-sex couples in their house, including their former Captain Flint who got together with Wood before the two graduated. But because he was the Boy Who Lived whose every move was heavily scrutinized, especially now. He hoped acceptance, which apparently came through with a bet on top of it.

"I demand to know every detail," Pansy said. "How is happened, where it happened, who made it happen. Everything."

Embarrassment burst across Harry's cheeks in the blushing, flaming pink, remembering the place and the events that started their new relationship.

"We should have stayed in our room." Draco hissed in his ear.

"Wanna make a break for it?" Harry joked.

Shocking as the warm welcome was, along with the surprising un-surprise that came along, with the bet on top of it that his mind was still wrapping around, Harry was glad for it. So far none of his friends, none of his housemates acted any differently towards him. After their arrival, the rest of the Slytherins broke into mini groups with their friends, leaving the tower, going back to their dorms. His friends teased them for their flushed cheeks, their hands that were locked together, and Harry's clear embarrassment and Draco's obvious annoyance. Yet it all felt normal. No one brought up Cedric, Voldemort, or what the papers had been saying about him. It gave him hope that maybe his decision to come back to Hogwarts was a right one. That the tense, awkward ambush he walked into last night was just a one-time thing, people seeing for themselves how he was faring, then moving on. That things were going to be okay.

That hope sparked when his friends got their bags and walked out into the hall, like a normal school morning.

That hope flared as they walked down the halls and corridors that were blissfully empty, Draco's hand warm in his, feeling his happiness seeping into Harry's skin.

That hope died a horrible, brutal, fiery death the second they walked into the Great Hall, and instantly Harry was bombarded by hundreds of stares and whispers, making him feel like a fly under a microscope, the glare burning through his skin. The whispers the sharp tools that were ready to cut him open.

The sharks were alive and well. And they were hungry.

Dear God, Dear Merlin, he was stupid. He was stupid to actually think this school year would be alright after the mess that was created last year.

It then dawned on Harry that many of the probing eyes were lowering to his hand that was entwined with Draco's. Harry's became limp, slipping through Draco's hold, then falling to his side.

Draco looked over at him, surprise and hurt heavy in his eyes.

There would be more questions, more stares, more rumors that would lead to a bombfire, reaching the attention of Skeeter who'd have more dirt over him. And…

Harry didn't give a shite.

_To hell with it._

He reclaimed Draco's hand again with one hand and used the other to cup his face, bringing him into a kiss. A deep, thorough kiss he hoped was clear to Draco, and to the rest of him, that he didn't give a damn what they had to say.

_I won't hide this_ , Harry stated with a firm kiss.  _I won't be ashamed of it_ , he said, biting down on his lower lip.  _I won't run from it_ , he answered with a slow caress of his tongue, swallowing Draco's startled gasp and the rest of the sounds that followed afterwards.

Sure, he could still hear the whispers, buzzing like a swarm of bees, but that was all white noise to him; simple background music to keep the moment from slipping into total silence. That didn't matter to him. Not as much as this moment did, this warmth, these kisses, the pleasure he could feel humming in Draco's body and transferring over to him.

He eased away from Draco, the boy's flustered cheeks causing pleasure to stir in his stomach. "Was that okay?"

Despite his flustering, Draco still pulled out a snort, faint traces of a smile lining his mouth. "That has to be one of the dumbest things you've ever asked me. Well," He stopped for a moment. "At least one of top three."

The sound that came out of Harry was both a chuckle and a laugh.

"So," The two looked over at Blaise who took one step forward. "You two couldn't have done that earlier in the common room and help make my victory sweeter?"

Harry felt warmth rushing to his cheeks. "Shut up, Blaise."

"Or at the very least wait until we got to the table, so I can have a show to go with my breakfast?"

"Shut it, Zabini!" Draco snarled, grabbing hold of Harry's hand and leading them to the table.

Chatter continued on around them, although it wasn't as hard to guess what-or rather who-was the subject of conversation, given the glances aimed over at the Slytherin table, Harry, their entwined hands.

"I must say, Potter," Pansy spread some raspberry over her toast. "I never would have pegged you as a PDA kind of boy." She glanced over at Draco. "Or you."

Draco shrugged while Harry focused on stirring his eggs and sausages bites together. "Just felt right."

"I personally think it was a good call," Blaise said. "After all the best way to kill one scandal is to create a new one."

Harry grimaced. That wasn't his intention of kissing Draco. He did it to show that they were together, and nothing was going to stop that, no matter what anyone or Rita Sketeter had to say about it. At the moment, though, it looked like people were done staring and were focused on eating, but a good amount of eyes still watched him. Dumbledore watched him with a slight but unmistakable frown; either one of concern or disapproval, he wasn't sure. Snape's left brow arched, his face giving away nothing. Umbridge's lips were set in a thin, thin line. Ron and Hermione's faces were matched in shock, skepticism, and betrayal.

Harry internally winced. That was definitely one conversation he wasn't looking forward to. For the fourth time he wished he stayed in the room with Draco, warm and safe in their bed, instead of heading into the long day that awaited him.

Little he did know how long it would be.

~...~

History of Magic was dull as usual with Professor Binns reciting for them every line, every footnote of the five chapters of Magical theory they'd be studying for the upcoming week, sending more than half the class into dreamland. In Charms Professor McGonagall emphasized the upcoming NEWTS they would be taking next year and it was time for them to start thinking on their future, on where they want to be ten years from now.

A question that left a foul taste in Harry's mouth.

When they entered the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, it was thankfully clear of Umbridge so the students entertained themselves by picking their seats and relaxing. Some were catching up on the leftover sleep from History of Magic, some were clustered in giggling and whispering circles. Goyle created a small paper bird that was soaring throughout the class, nearly colliding with some of students' faces, zooming up towards the sky. Sitting beside Harry, Draco grabbed hold of his hand as he looked over notes from their earlier class, which brought the first smile to his face the whole day.

Unable to help himself, Harry brought Draco's hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckle. Draco pulled away from his reviewing long enough for Harry to spot the gentle smile warming his eyes. Then quickly broke apart when Goyle's paper bird zoomed through the small space between them, nearly scraping Harry's cheek. Their friend burst into laughter from the heat of their twined glares.

His papery bird then burnt into crisps mid-air, sprinkling like grayish snow as Umbridge walked into the classroom, calling attention to the back of the room. Lowering her wand that was faintly billowing smoke, a smile of pure satisfaction at the ashy remains of the bird, she easily strolled over to her desk.

"Good afternoon, class." she greeted pleasantly.

A few people mumbled 'good afternoon' in reply. She clicked her tongue distastefully.

"That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply " _Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge"_. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her in flat monotone.

"Much better," she grinned; the strong sweetness filling her tone made Harry ill. "Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out a quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

**Defense Against the Dark Arts**

**A Return to Basic Principles**

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."

Must have slipped her mind that barely any of their past DADA teachers lived long enough to see through making sure the class were up to speed. Out of the ones they had, a follower to Voldemort, a self-absorbed peacock who wouldn't know how to put up a shield charm if a herd of Death Eaters surrounded him, Remus was the only one who seemed like he knew what he was doing.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year."

Harry didn't like sound of that one bit.

"Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

_Course Aims:_

_1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

_2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used_

_3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of  _Defensive Magical Theory_  by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of  _Defensive Magical Theory_  by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good. Now then, turn to page five and read Chapter One, Basics for Beginners-"

"Excuse me."

Umbridge's eyes widened at the interruption, then narrowed into cool slits she looked to the source of it, which was no other than Hermione who returned Umbridge's cool look with one of her own. " _Hand_ ," The word sounded like a harsh lash that made Harry's skin bristle. " _up_  if you have a question, young lady."

Hermione's hand shot up. Umbridge's too-pleasant smile darkened to a barely-concealed frown.

"Yes, Ms…?"

"Granger," she answered. "Hermione Granger."

"Ah, yes, the bright Muggle-born witch. I've heard quite a lot about you." When one of the students said it like that, it reeked of taunting. When Umbridge said it, it sounded much worse. "And what, Ms. Granger, do you have a problem with?"

"Well, for starters," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard, eyes bouncing from there to Umbridge and Hermione.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"As I just explained, students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry immediately rose his hand along with Hermione's. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?'

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but–"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"So the Ministry won't let us learn how to defend ourselves?" Shock spread through the classroom as the question burst from Neville; steel coating his gaze, his tone. "Against the possible threat we're facing?"

Umbridge took one look at his face and burst into laughter. Harry clenched his teeth, his fists from the sound. For a moment the laughter turned to two, then ten, then twelve, until it was a chorus of malicious, dark laughter surrounding him as he was at their master's mercy.

" _We're not playing hide and seek, Harry." Voldemort said over the roar of laughter. "Come out and play."_

A tightness grabbed hold of his throat, spreading to his chest, his stomach, his limbs.

Draco placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, slowly pulling him back from those memories. When he caught Harry's eye, he gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, expression grim but eyes determined, as if he could tell where Harry's mind had gone. Where it went back to.

"The threat we're facing?" Umbridge mimicked, having herself a good laugh. "Who in the world would want to harm such innocent children as yourselves?"

"Oh I don't know," The words dripped from Harry's mouth, chipped and flat. His cool expression matched them evenly as he said, "Maybe Voldemort."

Silence plunged into the classroom with a loud halt. Breaths were sucked in, choked mid-draw. Crabbe broke into a shudder. Blaise grasped onto the sides of his desk as if he needed an anchor. Lavender Brown uttered a little scream. Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Hermione's widened eyes flew over to him. Color drained from Umbridge's face, splashes of red filling her cheeks. Her lips curved, but the smile was trembling as an unsteady hand, outrage breaking through the cheery veil.

"What," she demanded. "Did you just say, Mr. Potter?"

"So sorry, Professor Umbridge," Harry managed an even, almost-pleasant tone with a smile to match while his blood boiled underneath his skin. "Would you rather I say You-Know-Who? He Who Must Not Be Named? The Dark Lord? Unless there's another name the Ministry came up with as their smoke screen to hide behind?"

A chuckle ripped through the silence, followed by another, then another, breaking through the shocked cloaking over the class. Harry noticed most of those laughs were from the Slytherins sitting beside and near him. Draco's hand disappeared from his shoulder to his back, pressed against the center, but Harry felt tension stiffening the limb.

Umbridge didn't look the least bit amused. "Let me make something be perfectly clear, Mr. Potter. The Ministry has nothing to hide. We take all matters of developments and threat seriously, and once we give our word on something, including the nonexistence to a threat you seem to be convinced is somehow active, why it's almost insulting-"

"Insulting indeed," Draco commented. "Insulting how the Ministry is sure of their weigh in words. When the fact of the matter is, the certainty of their word is the same as their consideration for the public: utterly cheap. And as strong as flimsy paper."

Shock and gratitude shot through Harry, filling his chest. At the moment, he was hit with the strongest urge to kiss Draco right then and there. The smirk on Draco's said that he saw the desire and shared in it as well.

" _There is no threat!_ " Frustration, flinching and biting, exploded from Umbridge's words, causing several students to flinch or wince. She took in a deep breath, walked over to the center of the classroom, and faced them again with a smile. "Let me make one thing clear. There is not now nor will they ever be a threat in the future. You are all perfectly safe, despite what some fanatics have to say in the matter."

Harry clenched his teeth to hold in the words boiling in his tongue.

"You've been told that the Dark Lord has somehow resurrected again, but I must ask." Umbridge spread her arms wide. "Where's the proof? Supposedly the Dark Lord has returned and yet there hasn't been a spotting of him or his followers."

"What about the dark mark showing up at the World Quidditch Tournament?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Maybe Minister Fudge was so traumatized by his near death," Pansy commented. "That he completely blanked out."

"Well with a lightning bolt missing you by an inch and piss pouring down your ankle, I'm sure that's enough trauma to last a lifetime." Blaise snickered.

"That," Umbridge cut in. "no doubt was the practical joke done by some fool with too much time on their hands."

A practical joke that turned a day of fun into complete chaos, where there was so much wreckage, so much dark magic, it was a miracle the large number of injuries didn't turn into a vast one. Or included deaths.

"What about the missing Muggles?" Hermione demanded. "This past summer, there had been a large number of disappearances. You can't simply dismiss that as coincidence."

"No Ms. Granger, I cannot. What I can and do and will dismiss it as a matter for those under Muggle authority to handle. The Ministry's interest has always been on the wizarding world, and only the wizarding world."

Hermione's face was so outraged, glare so sharp, it was a shock Umbridge was still standing.

"Any other questions?" Umbridge asked, her overly-sweetness returning to her tone, running like sticky caramel.

"Just one," Harry said, aware of the stares burning into his head. "What about what happened to Cedric? Are you calling that a coincidence too?"

Umbridge frowned at him. "Why, of course not, Mr. Potter. We are not calling the death of Cedric Diggory a coincidence."

Harry restrained on the snort threatening to come out. Well thank Merlin for that at least.

"We are calling it as it was. A tragic accident."

Harry's blood chilled to ice.  _An accident?_  That was what they were calling Cedric's death? An accident? As if the boy had simply fallen and permanently broken something. As if it was a simple case of being there at the wrong place, wrong timing. As if he wasn't struck down by a madman who barely glanced his direction. As if he barely had time to speak, to prepare his final words, before he hit by a bright flashing green and tumbled to the ground as a soulless thing, his hollow eyes-

Draco's hands smacked own against Harry's, holding it tight. He looked up at his best friend's, his boyfriend's eyes that were fierce and concerned and bright and sympathetic.

_Don't feed into it_ , his gaze warned.  _Or to Umbridge. She's just baiting you._

At the moment, the problem wasn't Umbridge. It was Harry's own mind that he was worried about, and the memories that could spring up any moment, trapping him in their suffocating grip and dragging him down.

"I will say this once and only once," Umbridge said. "The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. That is the truth," She glanced at Harry and walked to his desk, standing before him, her smile overwhelmingly sweet while her eyes were hard. "And the only truth we should be concerned about. Isn't that right, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's skin burnt from the stares burning holes into his skin. It was a trick question. He knew it, they knew it, and she most definitely knew it, which was why she decided to ask it. If he denied the claim, then that would further prove the Ministry's claims of him being nothing more than the boy who cried Wolf. If he agreed, then he was a liar. Either way, in the eye of the public, he would look guilty of something: either creating panic or wild stories.

Harry took in a deep breath, making sure his expression was calm and flat. His tone even as he answered, "I agree, Professor Umbridge."

Triumph glowed in the woman's eyes, curled her smile. "Splendid," she said. "So happy we got that matter out of the way."

She walked over to her desk.

"I agree that the truth is nothing more than one's own preferred alternation to actual reality."

Shock was slapped onto each and every one's of the students' faces: total, pure shock. Umbridge stared at him coldly for a second, before she turned her attention back to the class.

"If you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners."

~…~

Harry thought no year was more awful than last year, thanks to the whole Tournament fiasco with his name being added to, then picked from the damn cup. He was made public enemy number one in the school, in the media, being branded as a desperate attention-hog, getting hurled by vicious whispers and stares and rumors that followed him everywhere.

This year was starting out to be just as terrible as last year. Only now he wasn't a hated, supposed-backstabbing snake. He was the feared, delusional boy who called Wolf. Or rather Voldemort. A feared, deranged boy whose arrival, his long silence, his stunt from this morning at the Great Hall, along with his showdown with Umbridge that already circled around the school before the class was even dismissed, causing an array of curiosity and skepticism.

He wondered if he should start a bet with his friends on the likelihood of today's events leaking to the Daily Prophet. He wouldn't be surprised if by tomorrow morning Skeeter released another new expose on him.

"Cheer up, Potter," Pansy said as they walked back to their dorms after a late class of Advanced Runes, a class he didn't know existed until he saw it on his schedule. "It's only the first day back."

"Whoopie," Harry rolled his eyes.

She giggled. "Is it a terrible thing that while I greatly sympathize with you, I am happy that the spotlight is off me?"

Any other person, Harry would have hexed them for the comment. However if there was anyone who shared in his misery from gossip from last year, it was Pansy who came under heavy fire after the mess at the Yule Ball.

"No," he admitted. "I can't say I blame you. Though I don't suppose you'd want it back. Just for awhile." _Or the rest of the semester,_ he thought dryly.

The sound that hissed from her lips was a cross between a snort and giggle, perfectly answering that question for him. "Not anytime soon, darling, but just wait. This school is sad and the people in it are pathetic, needing a morsel of gossip to keep their lives interesting. I guarantee you they'll be switching from talking about you and your accusations from me and the boys I possibly slept it within the week."

"The Boy Who Lied and the Hogwarts Harlot," he said, and then knocked his shoulder against her, a slight smile breaking across his face. "We make quite a pair."

Pansy swatted his arm, but the smile she wore let him know she didn't mind the tease-at least coming from it. Anyone else would be needing snitches. "Not true. You and Draco already make a speculator pair."

Harry's grin, as much as he tried to suppress it, broke through. His cheeks warmed. "Shut up."

Pansy giggled, knocking into his shoulder. "I wasn't lying about what I said at breakfast. I want details." She grabbed his arm and looked up at him, batting her eyes so crazily chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth. "I want details and I want them now."

"It's a long story-" A sound cut him off. A choir of sounds, hissing and grunting mixed together in what sounded like gurgling, tongue-twisting Pig latin.

Harry turned around. Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor who was in their year, dressed in all black with a white collar breaking the color scheme, rattling a large cross with silver rosary wrapped around it in his hand, speaking gibberish-practically yelling it as he walked over to Harry.

He tried turning left and McLaggen followed. Turned right and he was there, grunting and hissing, waving the cross and rosary around, nearly hitting Harry in the face, calling a large crowd over to them. Not that it stopped McLaggen, stepping closer and closer to Harry, waving the rosary-wrapped cross around like he was performing a drastic spell.

Harry's back hit the wall with hard thud, with little room to escape from. Irritated, he smacked the cross away, then shoved McLaggen-admittedly but shamelessly harder than what was needed, secretly pleased by his slight stumble. "What the hell?"

"Uh." McLaggen glanced down at the cross "My cousin told me this thing drives out evil spirits and forces. Clearly the evil force is strong in you, Potter."

Harry's skin bristled.

"Thought adding the rosary would help. Maybe I should have gotten some holy oil, although I don't know if it's strong enough to drive out lying lunatics."

Harry shoved McLaggen so hard that he did stumble, nearly falling onto his arse, the cross flying from his hand. "Funny."

"I thought so." McLaggen smirked, then yelped as his dark hair stood straight up towards the ceiling, strands coming together, tying into a thin braid that smacked into his face when it was finished.

Pansy stepped beside Harry, tapping her wand against her palm. "Since you're the reigning king of jackasses, I thought I should complete the look by giving you a tail."

McLaggen swiped the braid away and glared at her. "That's rich coming from you, slut! I don't think there's enough holy water in all the world to wipe away your filthy, cheap sins."

Harry charged at him, but someone grabbed hold of his elbow, pulling him back. Neville of all people who shook his head, warning him to remain calm.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall demanded, striding down the hall.

"These two snakes attacked me!" McLaggen pointed a finger at them. "Potter and his pet whore."

"Liar!" Pansy seethed. This time Harry and Neville worked together to hold her back.

"They're a danger to my well-being, all our well-being. Especially him." McLaggen pointed at Harry again. He gestured towards his attire. "I was just trying to do the Good Lord's work and cleanse the evil out."

"Bullshit!" Harry barked.

McGonagall scowled. "Ten points from Slytherin for irrational behavior." She whirled over to McLaggen and said. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for starting the altercation and your foolishness, along with an additional ten points for mockery of the Church."

"What?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Five more points for questioning authority."

"I didn't-"

"Would you care for it to be raised to ten?"

McLaggen's face was so flushed, it took on a dark purple color. It was as if he was choking from his anger, right eye twitching, gurgled words spitting from his mouth. His eyes flashed back to Harry, exploding in anger.

"He shouldn't even be here in the first place!"

"I suggest you stop while you're ahead-"

"Why? Cause it's the truth? Cause I'm saying something we all know, we all think? Guess what? He shouldn't be. Seamus said his mom and a bunch of other parents complained to Dumbledore about Potter coming back this year. Don't what his nonsense spreading around like the plague. He says You-Know-Who is back, but there's no proof. No evidence. No one's seen anything."

"You are on very, very thin ice-"

"Hell, I wouldn't be shocked if Potter just killed Diggory himself. We already know he's a psychopath. Won't be long before Malfoy whines up as the next corpse."

Harry could vaguely make out the stares and chatter. He could make out McGonagall listing out every grueling chore McLaggen would be serving in his detention with McLaggen protesting each step. He could feel Pansy tugging him at his sleeve so they could leave. But the sounds were so faint, almost as if he were underwater. He heard but didn't listen. Sense but didn't respond. But he did stare. He stared at McLaggen's discarded cross with rosary lying feet away from the boy. Stared at the clear-silver beads, the white sting holding it together. Stared and thought of the dozens of the other ways it would serve better use.

_Punish him._

Yes, those beads could come in much better use. Multiple uses. Firstly teaching McLaggen to watch his mouth.

_Punish him._

Let him know that the words came with a price and were expected to be paid in full.

_Punish him._

A soft gray light glowed from the cross pedant, the charm rattling, before the light spread from bead to bead, all trembling, its' color changing from clear-white to pitch-black, their rattling a pleasant song only Harry could hear. The rattling then ceased in exchange for movement. In the midst of chaos, no one noticed the rosemary moving on its' own, untangling from the cross and slowly slithering towards McLaggen, crawling up his ankle, his leg, disappearing behind his back.

McLaggen, lost in his argument with McGonagall, barely noticed a thing. Until the rosemary wound itself around his neck in a tight grip, turning his arguing into gasps, then wheezing. Stunned, McLaggen tried to pull the rosary off, but the more he tugged, the more the beads gripped onto him, pressing so tightly against his neck Harry could see the dark-red bruises forming onto the boy's skin before seconds before the stench of burning flesh filled the air. The beads morphed from black to searing orange, wisps of smoke curling from them. The bruises expanded, rotten skin slowly crumpling away to reveal burnt flesh.

The wet, desperate hacking from McLaggen's throat was such a fascinating sound. His hopeless struggling was a delightful show. Truly delight, with the tips of his fingers darkening to charcoal as he continued to struggle against the burning rosary, the bruises on his neck growing to the size of a baby fist.

The screams, the panic, the fear in the other students added more pleasure to the sweet music buzzing in Harry's head. It was strange that the panic even existed in the first place, along with the useless tears and sobs coming from some of the swine who moments ago were hungry sharks, delighting in his own misery. Idiots, all of them. The bastard deserved it. Justice was merely being delivered.

" _Punish him_." Tom's words were so soft yet rang with such perfect clarity, as if he were standing beside Harry, admiring the show along with him.

A curl lifted the left corner of Harry's mouth. Yes, yes, he should punish. First him, then the rest of them. To show that he wasn't helpless, that he would never be helpless. He would never be caught off guard again. Never be pinned down and tortured while dozens watched, dark laughter chiming around him like sickening bells. Never-

" _Glacius!_ " The burning rosary turned to a chain of ice, thanks to the charm McGonagall blasted. Another spell from her knocked the chain off McLaggen's neck, singeing it into crisps before it hit the ground.

McLaggen toppled to the ground, one hand pressed against his ruined neck, nearly choking as he attempted to breath. Two of his friends rushed over to him, trying to help. McLaggen's eyes searched for Harry, all traces of amusement wiped clean from his face, leaving behind only fear. Pure fear.

Fear that bounced from student to student as eyes glanced from McLaggen to Harry, Harry to McLaggen, backing away, grasping onto each other like the next one would be wearing a scorched necklace.

"Take Mr. McLaggen to the hospital wing immediately," McGonagall said. "Then inform him, after he's treated, to report to my office to begin his week-long detention."

Each friend grabbed the boy his elbow and hoisted him up, taking him away.

"As for the rest of you, I suggest you make yourselves scarce unless you wish to join him in detention and cost your houses points."

Slowly the crowd dispersed, but not without many of the students stealing glances at Harry.

"Mr. Potter, while I don't agree with McLaggen's antics, responding with violence is never the answer. One hundred points from Slytherin for attacking a student, and an additional one hundred for using dark magic."

Shock slammed into Harry like a hard punch to the gut, dulling his senses. Dark magic? He used dark magic? Without casting a spell?

"Potter? Potter, are you alright?" McGonagall reached over for his shoulder.

Harry backed away before she could touch him. He studied her face that was marred in concern, at Neville whose face was pale white, at Pansy who held a trembling hand against her mouth, and took off. All the while listening to the chilling laughter that haunted his dreams ringing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think I mentioned this before but I started this story first on ffnet and a few of my friends, more so SensiblyTainted and SasuNarufan13. And now you guys are on the same status (lack of a better word; blame exhaustion) with them. So yay, that's the good news. 
> 
> Now brace yourself for the not-so good news. I know you guys have been loving the daily updates. Sadly...I'm afraid we've reached the end of that. Don't misquote me. Stages is going on. I am determined to see this story through until the end. However I started a new job that has been taking up most of my time-and energy. And every time I get back home, I just wanna sleep. However I HAVE been working on chapter 46. Hopefully I'll have it up soon. Sorry if the updates won't be as constant as before, and most likely will be limited to once a week...or so.
> 
> For the last piece of news, this ties in with the earlier note mentioning the possibility of you awesome readers posting two comment for this chapter. At this point, I believe you guys are still digesting what had happened and have plenty of theories and ideas on what can happen. As I work out the next few chapters, I'd love to hear them. Please share any ideas. I'm open to all. 
> 
> Thanks for the love. Thanks for the patience. And hopefully will find a good balance between working and writing-and also reading since lord knows I need to catch up. Wish me luck


	49. Fragment of Large, Frail Scale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: WHAT'S UP? *GRINS* I missed you guys. I have a number of things to say and get out. First out shout-outs.
> 
> 1). To every single one of you awesome readers who take time out to read, review, favorite, and add to your subscription. When I read comments on how this story is your favorite of all time, that some of you including a certain someone one I greatly chat with over at tumblr say that you've read this story more than once (same person mentioned said she read it 7 times to my shock, that apparently this converted you over to team drarry...no words. None. That's how shook I am.
> 
> 2). SHOUT TO the 2 awesome friends and fellow writers who helped me so much with this chapter: SasuNarufan13 and SensiblyTainted. Check out their stuff. You won't regret it.
> 
> 3). SPECIAL SPECIAL SHOUTOUT to my new friend who is a pure ball of sunshine, luxis. The sweetest person and has helped me through this tough, writing break.
> 
> Thank you for your patience. I quickly learn the pros and cons of getting new job: you may earn money but your patience is always tested and energy is always drained, leaving room for nothing else. Especially writing. But in honor of the holiday and the fact it is the birthday month of one of my best friend-who is also the reason this story exists-and the birthday of my firstborn fictional son, Harry J Potter. My BABY. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Harry's legs dangled over the edge of the Astronomy tower, softly swaying as he gazed out into the open view of the forest. He shivered as the strong autumn wind pierced through his thin sweater. His teeth chattered as his hands frantically ran up and down his arms, although a question sprouted in the back of his mind if the shivering was entirely caused by the cold.

He could have gone back to the Slytherin dorms and rested at the common room. Or just barricade himself in his room, until he was sure the storm had passed. But he had little doubt news of his demonstration with McLaggen already reached there. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if it reached the creatures in the Forbidden Forest at this point. Including Draco.

Oh Merlin, Draco. Harry held himself tighter, bringing his knees to his chest, curling into a ball. He didn't want to imagine how his reaction would be.

There was also the library. He could have found a quiet place, get started on the mountain of assignments or lose himself in books, but the library was practically Hermione's second bedroom and Harry wasn't ready to see her. To see her anxious or get hit with the dozens of questions she'd have for him.

In the end, the Astronomy Tower, lacking the proper warmth needed with its' wide open spaces, offered the privacy he needed.

It occurred to Harry that he could have used a warming charm or try to Transfix his sweater into one of thicker material. However, the last time he had used his magic…McLaggen's pain-stricken face burst into Harry's head, his hands clawing at the charcoal rosary, the smell of burning flesh.

Harry's stomach leapt, then crashed abruptly. Bile filled his mouth, burning at his throat.

Wandless magic. He had done wandless magic. He had done  _dark_  magic.

Shivers that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold crawled up his spine as he stared at his hands. He had done dark magic with them. He did dark magic without the use of a wand or a spell.

Horror rolled through his stomach like waves, bile filling his mouth like a balloon.

What was happening to him?

In DADA class, it took everything Harry had not to give into the great, dark urge burning inside him and hex the ugly toad into a pile of dust. Or swing his fist over and over again until the teeth to that nauseatingly sweet smile of hers were knocked out- a look that might would have actually be an improvement from her current state. It was a struggle though, but he managed not to do it.

He refused to give her the satisfaction on knowing that she had gotten to him. He refused to give the students with their whispers, their looks more fuel to use for their stories. For the whole hour of class, he managed to keep a calm, cool composure that actually would please Aunt Cissa. Lucius too.

Yet in a matter of seconds, that cool composure was broken.

He could say that it was because of the priest clothes and the rosary. It could be, along with the crap he had said about Harry, the bullshit he had said about Pansy. Harry, though, knew the reason why.

McLaggen's taunting had turned towards Draco, stating he'd be the next corpse that'd die because of Harry.

Anger swept across Harry in vicious waves, threatening to pull him under as the memory surfaced in his mind. He took in a deep breath and attempted to push it aside, balling his hands into tight fists and then uncurling them.

Having the terrifying thought he had been carrying all summer, even before the school year was over, said out loud? Thrown right back in his face, triggering thousands of images of Draco still and lifeless, the recent nightmare of his empty eyes staring up at Harry with his broken neck?

At first anger hit him hard. Then anger melted into a distant, cooling calm. It was if Harry was pulled away from his body and replaced by something else. Something cold. Something dark.

_Punish him_.

Those words felt riveting. Freeing. Justified. He wanted to punish McLaggen for his crap. Used his little toys against him.

And when he did…Harry was…was…happy. Disturbing as it was, terrifying as it was, he felt happy. Delighted. There was joy he remembered blooming in his chest at the boy's pained expression. The rosary bound around his neck, burning his skin. The looks of the other students' faces that were filled with fear and shock.

He loved seeing their fear. He delighted in it. He wanted more of it.

Harry's body flinched, as if he were struck hard across the face. Merlin, what had he done?

"Lightening lands its' mark, swift and true."

A few inches closer and Harry would have been falling off the edge, courtesy of the jump that rattled his body at the voice cutting through his thoughts.

Luna stood beside him, smiling serenely, staring at the horizon of tress spread throughout the forest. "Lightening lands its mark, swift and true. Yet it is thunder that lands the first blow."

Harry's brows creased.

Luna's smile brightened when she turned to him. "People always think it's the loudest shout that announces the storm's arrival. When in truth," Her eyes gleamed brightly. "it is the quietest whisper."

All previous thoughts were silenced as he tried to understand where Luna was going with this.

"I swear, Lovegood, you could give Trewlany a run for her money." A glance over Harry's shoulder revealed Blaise was behind them, leaning against one of the inner walls.

Luna grinned at Blaise, as if she was paid a compliment. Harry wasn't completely sure it was one.

"How did you find me?" Harry asked.

"I simply let the atmosphere of fears and unease guide us here," Luna shot him a smile. "Seems that I was correct."

He definitely knew that it wasn't a compliment.

"There are some things you need to hear, Harry. I'll let you Blaise speak to first. We'll talk when the moment is right?"

When the moment was right? Questions stirred in Harry's head, but before he could ask one, Luna was gone and Blaise took over her place.

"Pretty but strange," Blaise said as he sat down beside him. "Lucky for Malfoy, you made it clear you're off the market otherwise I think the poor girl would possibly get a hands-on face touch-up."

Harry's cheeks burnt as he remembered the kiss from this morning. A kiss that felt like a lifetime ago. A kiss he hoped would make the day a bit better. Little did he know how wrong it would go.

"When I said, Potter, the best way to kill the scandal is to create a bigger one," Blaise said. "I should have stressed that when creating that scandal, there's a fine line between sizzle and a total shit fire."

There was no question where Harry's latest mess fell under. "How bad?'

"Bad."

Merlin. Harry ran through his hair, pulling at the ends. Was it too much to ask that he somehow made it through  _one_ damn school year without trouble finding its' way to him? Especially after last year.

"Pansy told us what happened."

"How mad is he?" Harry's mind couldn't even imagine the level.

Blaise took a moment to answer. "Let's just say that I hope for McLughead's sake, Madame Pomfrey keeps him in the hospital under severe watch and away from Malfoy for the rest of the year. Or graduation."

Harry didn't know if he should take that as a comfort or a bad thing.

"So, do you wanna share with me exactly what happened?"

Harry opened his mouth and no answer came out. What could he say? That somehow his anger got the better of him, turned to dark magic, and he would have used made McLaggen into a corpse thanks to a stupid rosary that burnt before his eyes? That somehow he heard Tom Riddle's-Voldemort's voice and instead of the usual disgust and anger that came with the man, Harry felt steadily calm even. As if Riddle was a gentle hand guiding him through the mayhem.

Must have been how Ginny ended up writing in his journal, kept coming back to the journal, which lead to the Chamber of Secrets being opened.

The thought and memory was like cold water pouring over him, soaking him to the bone.

Was that what happened to him? Had he been possessed?

"Alright, how about I share something with you? Several somethings actually. Some of which you know, you don't," Blaise dove right in. "A great evil is coming-whether or not people believe it or not. I believe soon enough the Wizarding World may enter into its' third war-maybe it's final with the way most people are quaking in their boots with their tails in between their legs. I believe you are and will quickly soon find yourself surrounded by people who could prove to be an ally or enemy. Depending on how carefully you tread." Blaise's eyes flickered over to him. "Most in your own domain."

Harry's blood went cold. There were rumors whispered here and there, accusations in the books he managed to find, even written in snippets of old articles on how most of those on Voldemort's side were purebloods. Harry had thought that it was just that: rumors. Lucius, though, turned out being one-possibly-suggested otherwise. What of the others? How many followers were still loyal to Voldemort's cause? How many of those followers were parents or relatives to the same people Harry walked past by on a daily basis through the Slytherin common room? How many of those same people in the Slytherin house believed in that cause?

"Are you saying-"

"I'm not saying anything." Blaise cut him off. "I'm merely suggesting. Just like I'm offering this piece of suggestion. There's no doubt as we speak, rumors are already spreading though the school of what happened between you and the little cub."

_Rat is more like it_ , Harry seethed.

"People are going to say one of many, many things. Reporters will say another. The newspapers will say more. I suggest you use what happened to your advantage."

"How so?"

Blaise turned over to him. His face so solemn, so cool, it was almost frightening. Harry couldn't recall a time Blaise looked like so serious. "Right now, Potter, there are two different narratives about you: the lunatic and the liar. With this new one from the stunt you pulled, you can create a new narrative."

"Like what?" Harry snapped. "Dangerous? Deadly?"

"Yes," Blaise answered back evenly, a strong glint crossing his eye. "Both. One or the other. Whichever you can make work into your favor. Shows people you can't be dismissed. Shows that you are a threat in the best kind of way. And help you win followers."

"Followers?"

Blaise let out a low sigh that sounded like a hum as he turned his back to the front. "War is coming, Potter. And with war, there are sides that people have to choose. One will be the Dark Lord's. One will be the light. Then," He glanced back at him, looking more serious than Harry could ever remember. "A third one, if he proves he's capable."

* * *

Blaise's words rang around his head as Harry walked through the corridor, into the dungeons.

Bizarre as it sounded, incredulous as it was, Harry saw that there were valid points in Blaise's words. People would question what happened. How he did it. What was done might help him. Blaise was right about one thing though. War was coming. Harry could feel it. Soon everyone, whether they believed it or not, would be forced to pick a side.

In the first war, there were two sides: Grindelwald and his supporters versus those against them. In the second war, Voldemort led with his army and Dumbledore fighting against him with his own army, the Order that included his parents, Sirius, Remus.

He wondered what side Blaise and his mother were on. Pansy? Theo? His stomach turned at the idea of them being on Voldemort's side.

Before he could start figuring out his next move, Harry needed to know everything, especially on what happened to him. There was only one person he knew that had the answers.

Harry stopped in front of Severus's door and sucked in a deep breath, fist raised. He hadn't talked to Severus, not really since that night. Harry ended up sleeping at Snape Manor and when he woke up, he saw Snape was no longer there. Probably to spare him the embarrassment of figuring out where he stood.

Harry still had no idea where they stood.

But what he did know was that Severus was the only one who could have the answers he needed.

Which was why when Severus pulled the door opened before Harry's fist touched it, standing there with a remote expression, as if awaiting Harry's presence and annoyed with having to wait so long, the following sentence just burst out of Harry's mouth:

"Can Voldemort control minds?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. Harry pressed on, frustration bleeding through as he asked, "Can he?"

Severus stared at him for a moment and retreated back to his quarters. After staring at his back for a second or two, Harry stepped in.

The fireplace was already set aflame, holding a massive fire. The table was set with a large kettle of tea and two mugs already filled, hinting that Snape suspected Harry's arrival, and a large jug of bourbon of with two small glasses beside it.

Harry took his spot on the couch, hands wringing together. Severus stood by the fireplace, watching the fire. Unsure with what to do with himself, Harry drank one of the tea cups.

Halfway through the third refill, the silence was continued on, slightly pricked by Harry's slow sips, the soft thud of his mug as it was picked up and down. Halfway through the next sip, Harry's annoyance from the silence began to get to him, hardening to frustration.

"I'm assuming you heard about what happened." Harry said.

"It's Hogwarts," was all Severus said.

Harry bit down on his tongue that was already filling up with comments and aggravation. Looks like Blaise was right about one thing. If it reached Snape down there in the dungeons, then by now it reached everyone. Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore. Umbridge. Draco.

Dear god, Draco.

"Can you…" Harry bit his lip.

Snape still watched the flames, but Harry knew from the way his back straightened out that his attention was grabbed.

"Can you…can you look into my mind and see what happened? If he was there?" If he was still there.

A moment, a long, hard moment of silence and then-"Do you know what you're asking?"

Yes. No. Maybe. From all his reading and studying, Harry was still only in the beginning of Legilmency and Occclumency. He didn't understand the practice behind it. How it would be like. But he did know from almost all the readings he'd done, the two in very distinct emotions that ranged from invasive to painful.

Harry's hold on his mug tightened, muscles straining underneath his skin. His mind was already a nightmare all of his own. He didn't need anyone else to see it.

McLaggen's terrified face, hands grasping onto the burning rosary. The threat on Draco being the next corpse. Tom Riddle's voice floating in his head.

" _Punish him."_

"This isn't the first time Voldemort has been in my head."

Severus spun around so fast, Harry nearly suffered from whiplash. He would have flinched if not the sharp, heated look in Severus's glare, vanishing that calm exterior, that kept Harry in place.

"I-"

Severus cut him off, a tightness straining at his tone. " _What_ ," he demanded in a low, pinched tone that put Harry's nerves on high. "did you just say?"

Harry suddenly wanted that heavy silence back.

"I meant…I meant…" Harry swallowed. "After-after everything that happened fourth year, I started having visions. Dreams. Really intense, disturbing dreams of people getting hurt. Tortured. Sometimes even killed. And sometimes in those dreams…it feels like he's me. Or I'm him."

The sharpness hardened in Snape's as they stared off into space.

"So I need to know." Harry said. "I have to know if he's there."

"Which only reinforces my original question," Snape said. "Do you know what you're asking?"

He had to know. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Now, before he lost his nerve.

"Are you sure?"

_Oh, for the love for stinking Merlin._  "Just fucking do it already-"

Discomfort stung the right side of his temple, as if it were touched by a mosquito, irritation spreading like wildfire. Then discomfort honed to a razor-sharp pain that exploded behind his eye, spreading throughout his head until it felt like he was dunked head first into a pool of fire.

Harry screamed, tea mug flying from his hand, as he grasped onto his head, down on his knees. The pain refused to be swayed. It was like a butcher knife, making a clean slit across the surface of his brain before the blade reached in, spreading the slit wider. The blade morphing into a hand, searching for something, pulling out something like a page from the book.

_There. There it was. Where he was. Harry with Pansy and Neville on one side, McLaggen on the other side. He was standing across from them, like he was a spectator, part of the show but invisible to all._

_Harry watched his past self carefully, searching for any sign of possession. He picked up on the annoyance that stirred in his chest from McLaggen's failed exorcism. That annoyance firing up to anger as McLaggen explained the reasoning for it. Saying how numerous parents wanted Harry expelled for the safety of the other students, calling him a liar and a psychopath, accusing him of killing Cedric and Draco being the next victim._

_Harry's skin was scorching through the anger brewing through his past-self, watching him tremble from the tension. Anger that burnt hotter, more intensely with each word that came out from the bastard's mouth. Hotter, more frantic._

_Anger that came to a halt, like a fireball contained, sealed as his past-self glanced down at the discarded rosary. He studied the boy's face carefully for any sense of possession. Twitching limbs, a sharp breath, widened eyes with a touch of fear, dark magic tangling around him._

_Nothing._

_The boy's face was smooth, polished, unbothered polish. He studied the rosary as if it were a priceless gem and then there was a presence._

_He sensed something, almost like another person standing close to him. To both of them, an easy, serene presences that tamed his anger._

_Then there was humming. Humming to a sweet, sweet song that was pure and calm as a lullaby, nearly putting Harry into a slow, deep trance, falling under the spell of the song and the presence that felt warm and steady. Like a father's hand patting your head, support and care felt through every touch._

_Almost as his dad's own hand felt._

"Punish him."

_Harry's eyes snapped opened._

_He whirled around wildly, as if he could find Voldemort in the crowd. Deadly pale skin, burning red eyes. Nothing. He turned back to past-Harry, whose face was blank but gaze changed. A slow, changing light entering his eye._

_That strange presence came back again, warm and gentle, thick like honey, blocking everything out-all thoughts, all emotions, everything and anything but the soft humming._

" _Punish him."_

_A ghost of a smile touched his face, an inhuman smile that matched the glint in his eyes, disappearing as soon it appeared, chilling Harry to the very core._

_From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted the discarded rosary lying on the ground. The ends began to twitch, then the charm, the middle, until the entire necklace was shaking. The rosary moved like a snake, crawling across the floor and sneaking an unsuspecting McLaggen, gliding up his body and coiling around his neck._

_Harry watched in horror as his past self in the midst of chaos was watching it all in fascination. Like an experiment. No, Harry corrected with a heavy block of fear that weighted down on him. No, not like it was an experiment but a game._

_A game that grew more entertaining as McLaggen fell down to his knees, suffocating from the tight grip of the rosary. More entertaining as the beads glowed and ignited, burning his skin. More entertaining as streaks of burnt skin peeled off._

"Punish him."

_The song became sugary, like thick rolls of the sweetest honey unraveling inside him, wrapping around him and pulling him under. The honeyed warmth weighting down on him like pounds of cement slowly piling on top of his shoulders, on his head, against his back, nearly pushing Harry forward._

_Startled, Harry tried to fight against the pull, straighten himself out, and looked at his past-self. And almost immediately wished he hadn't._

_A cruel smile was carved on his face, a bone-chilling gleam flashing in his eyes, stared back at him in wicked delight. The same expression Harry saw when his reformed body emerged from the cauldron, whole and alive again. The same expression Harry saw as he was bruised and battered, surrounded by dark magic and laughter, sure he was going to die._

_Voldemort's smile_

_Nausea knotted his stomach._

"Punish him."

_NO! Harry tried to scream but not a sound came out. McLaggen was down on his knees, struggling, suffocating as the rosary burnt away at his skin, and Snape was suddenly standing in front of Harry._

" _I think we've seen enough."_

_The scene began to fade away, breaking off into bites until only blackness remained. Harry felt like being pulled up-_

And down on all four, nausea hitting him with the force of the Hogwarts train. He leaped onto his feet and raced to the bathroom, feeling it burning his stomach, shooting up his chest, filling his throat-his mouth.

All of it coming out in a sickening display as Harry heaved into the toilet. Heaving the mugs of tea he drank and the few bits of breakfast he choked down this morning, The Welcoming Feast dinner from the night before. Every other thing he had to eat and drink until there was nothing left in his stomach. Until he was dry-heaving, body shuddering as after-shocks of the illness rocked through him, tears and sweat coating, as that image of his face with the cruel smile and the flash of red played over and over in his head.

It could have been minutes, could have been an hour Harry spent with his head buried in the toilet. All he knew was that his stomach felt so shredded, he couldn't imagine the struggle of eating again. The sleeves and hem of his sweat-coated sweater was completely ruined by the multiple times he used them as rags to wipe his face.

What he saw. What he did. How he looked when he was doing….nausea slammed against him like a swift kick, and he clamped his mouth to keep what remained sealed.

After the last flush, Harry stood up on shaky legs. He charged past the house-elf who was waiting for with a cup of tea. He ignored the nausea that spiked his stomach again, threatening to send him back to the bathroom. He stood in front of Severus with his clammy skin, his ruined sweat, and demanded, "What's happening to me?"

Severus answered back his question with one of his own. "Are you ready to hear the truth?"

That stopped him cold. The truth? Severus mentioned it once that night, saying there was so much Harry didn't know, so much he needed to know. Harry could tell back then that it was terrifying. Now he knew if he learned the truth, there was no way he could unlearn it. What Severus could say, might know would completely change everything. May confirm horrible theories Harry had been trying not to look into.

Yet at the same time might have the answers Harry needs.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry nodded and took a seat across from Severus. Severus picked up the bourbon bottle and filled the two glasses. He brought one close to him, then pushed the other over to Harry.

Harry glanced at the glass, then over to Severus.

"What I'm about to share with you is not for the faint of heart. Nor is it information easy to digest," He gestured towards the cup. "I suggest you savor the rarity in me allowing you to indulge in the remedy, because I doubt I'll be so generous next time."

Harry could feel the remaining bits of his stomach wither into dead vines. He took a nervous sip, attempting not to wince from the hard taste. How in Merlin's name Draco managed to chug down a number of this to get completely smashed, Harry had no idea.

"The Dark Lord and you do…share, lack of a better word, a connection," Severus started. "In more ways than one."

Harry's mind went back to his dream of the room of mirrors, a young Tom Riddle listing out all the ways they were alike. He sucked in another, much longer sip to calm his shudders. "Why?"

Once again, Severus replied with a question. "What did we learn from the vision?"

That his head still ached, as if Severus had pried it open with his bare hands and searing-hot pilers. That what he sensed in the vision, what he saw didn't feel like possession. Not like the Imperious curse they had been introduced to last year, where he could feel the fake Moody's influence on him every step of the way. It wasn't like feeling his limbs being pulled apart like a puppet, a voice directing his movements.

It was more so a sense of serenity. Like a warm cloak being draped across him, blocking everything out except the sweet warmth and his magic buzzing, humming a sweet song to him. A song that broadened his mind to the possibility of repaying back that stupid prank with a hard lesson.

Harry trembled, gripping onto his cup.

"It didn't feel like a possession. Not like the curse did with Moody-I mean…Crouch Jr. It felt-it felt-" Dear Merlin, he didn't know how to describe it. "Calming. Peaceful. Like something came in, and something else switched on."

Which didn't answer one damn thing, other than confirming that the idea sounded crazy to Harry's own ears. From the tight frown on Severus's face, it was clear it wasn't a mutual feeling.

"Can Voldemort control do that though? Control minds? Possess someone fully like that? Without the use of a spell?"  _And so far away?_  Dread pricked at his insides. It was already bad enough that Voldemort took over Harry's dreams. But the idea that he could do that to him when he's awake? Could use that kind of power on anyone around him? Close to him?

"The Dark Lord possesses many gifts, great and terrible gifts no one in the history of the Magic had ever seen before. Surpassing even Grindelwald himself. Including possession if the occasion and need for entertainment came about. And mind control-"

"So he can read minds?"

Severus snorted. "Given your state of mind at the moment, I'll allow the comment. But no. Only Muggles talk of "mind-reading". The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter – or at least, most minds are."

"But he can go through them?"

"Yes, and create holes and trap doors until you're a prisoner inside your own head to the worst of memories and most horrifying hallucinations, questioning what is real, what is fantasy. It was a personal favorite torture technique of the Dark Lord."

Images of dead bodies of the people he cared about, his parents, Cedric and his hollow eyes gazing up at the sky, Draco with his broken neck surfaced to his mind. Harry tried to distract himself with his glass, but was shocked to find it empty. Severus refilled both glasses for them, picking up his own and settling back into his seat.

"I'll skip the usual introduction and explanation of good and bad magic, Light and Dark wizards. I believe Professor Binns already covered that in great detail."

Harry nodded.

"Most have this sentimental idea that the entire wizarding world is in great harmony, when in reality it couldn't be far from the truth. Cracks began to fracture into gaps during the early 1900s, as Grindelwald came into power and nearly cause the wizarding world to rot from within. But from the beginning, there have been many who didn't believe in restrictions the Ministry had over magic, particularly those that fell under the dark arts that was hidden away. For the safety of the public- or so they say.

"None were more fervent in the protest against the Ministry or more passionate of the Dark Arts than Tom Riddle himself. Who was of the greatest minds Hogwarts ever taught, gifted with power not yet seen before. And yes, was also a fellow Slytherin, one whose hatred of Muggles was almost as intense as his thirst for power. Particularly those of the Dark Arts."

"But why-"

"His hatred for Muggles soon became all-consuming. Before long, he found others that shared in his ideals, his vision on the Wizarding World renewed anew. A new world where only certain individuals would be allowed to live in."

"Purebloods?" The look Harry received confirmed it.

"The years passed on and with it, his power and follower count grew tremendously. Until all of England, the entire country of Europe itself, was cloaked under fear and suspension."

That fitted perfectly with that Sirius had told him over at the pub after the Second Task on what happened during the rise and fall of Crouch.

"The Ministry refused to admit that they were facing a threat that refused to be caged and wanted its presence to be known. And so they do what all fools in history had done when faced with a crisis: bury themselves in blissful ignorance. Placing more restrictions, including a strict curfew, inspections at various work places and works for any sign of usual behavior-but only known to a certain individuals tasked with containing that threat. And parties."

Harry blinked, baffled. "I beg your pardon."

"Parties. Balls. Their way of assuring the public and themselves they were in control."

The idea was so absurd, so incredibly vain, that it seemed exactly the thing the Ministry would do. Hell, Harry realized with a scowl, they were doing it right now, placing all fear and terror on Harry because a fifteen year old wizard with wild stories was easier to control than the idea of an infamous Dark wizard coming back from the dead.

"I'm sure you can imagine what side the fearing public chose to believe. If those in power claimed there was no threat, then there was no threat. Even if the missing number of persons began to rise, as well as violent activities. Until one night that ignorance was shredded when a prophecy had been made, proclaiming the arrival of a child. One born in the month of July, gifted with a great power equal to that of the Dark Lord. Destined to his downfall."

A prophecy? A child…born in July.

"The idea was ludicrous at the time. The best of the Aurors couldn't beat the Dark Lord. Unspeakables had very little luck predicting his next movement, much less capturing him. Yet some moon-eyed prophet proclaimed a child would do so. A prophet, despite the extraordinary bloodline she came from, was associated for being very unsettled."

"Unsettled?" Harry repeated.

"Perhaps unstable would be the better word."

Unsettled. Unstable. Wild gray and brown hair barely contained in colorful scarves, charms jiggling from the frantic movement of her hands, widened eyes staring out from wide wired-frames. Harry's heart gave a start. "Professor Trelawney?"

Severus nodded his head once. "The one and same."

Harry's mouth dropped.

"As mentioned before, given the woman's erratic nature, many would have dismissed her words as rubbish. Yet, the person who was there to witness the prophecy being made took them as a serious matter."

"What exactly did they do?"

Severus's mouth straightened in a tight, thin line.

"Who was this person? This one person who heard what Professor Trelawney said?"

Severus eyed him and said, "Take a guess."

There were few people in the world were able to say Voldemort's name without a scrape of fear, and one in particular stuck out in Harry's mind. A person Harry could see lasting in a fight with Voldemort, given the strength of his magic. A person who always seems to know more than most, delivering answers with riddles and lemon drops. The name slid into his head, one Harry couldn't knock out. "It was Dumbledore, wasn't it?"

Severus's mouth cracked opened, as if he were about to speak, then his mouth abruptly closed as a slow shudder went through his entire body. He shifted slightly in his chair, twisting his head, as if he were fighting against a great itch. Hands clasping onto the arm rests, Severus directed his head back to the fireplace, saying nothing, but his silence said enough.

"What did he do? When he heard of the prophecy?"

"The prophecy was concealed," Severus answered. "With only a few knowing of its existence, it managed to be kept as a secret. Until almost six years later, the prophecy was brought up again, Trelawney claiming that the child grows-as well his powers. That the Dark Lord's reign would soon come to an end. This time, an unexpected guest heard what was meant to be unsaid. A servant of the Dark Lord who caught word of the Prophecy and reported it back to his master."

One name came to mind. "Pettigrew!" Harry growled lowly, his blood boiling.

"Shockingly enough, no. Pettigrew had always been a spineless swine, even back when we were in school together, so the truth about his alliance didn't come as a complete surprise. However he didn't join The Dark Lord's side until much later. This was done by another who was just cowardly, just as spineless."

"What did Vold-" Severus's eyes flashed in warning. Defiance sparked up Harry's spine, but he forced himself to go against it. "What did He do? When he found out?"

More importantly, was Severus there when it happened? Did Dumbledore call him after Trelawney said the first prophecy? The second? Those were questions Harry kept quiet on, though, unsure if he wanted to know.

"The Dark Lord listened to him carefully. Made him repeat what he had to say in his presence. Then once more to the followers that were called in to listen. Once the servant said what he had to say, The Dark Lord split the poor fool into two. From underbelly to head."

Horror nearly strangled Harry.

"The Dark Lord dared for anyone else to repeat what the fool had to say. Dared for anyone to continue on with the ridiculous fable tale. None did, out of fear, out of doubt. Because it was absurd. The idea that a child could even be equal to him. The Dark Lord tossed the idea from his mind, and commanded them all to do the same because there was none like him. There had never been one like him, and there will never be one like him."

If Harry didn't think the man was mad before, he was now fully convinced. He also saw that his hatred for Muggles and the prophecy weren't the only cause of his downfall.

"However as time went on, hard as he tried, his mind still went back to what his former follower had said. Hard as he fought against it, no matter how many times he tried to silence the thought, the Dark Lord's mind wouldn't rest. It wasn't long until he became fixated. This insignificant child, said to be equal of the very same power he spent decades mastering, perfecting, destined to be his downfall. Finally, he laid out an order to his followers."

Despite the seed of horror that planted itself into his stomach, despite the fact he could already see where this story was going, causing that seed to wildly sprout into the veins pricked through the insides, Harry still asked, "What order?"

"The extermination of all magical children seven and under born in July."

Harry was dimly aware his mouth was opened so wide, his jaw ached from the weight. But he couldn't move. He couldn't think. He couldn't even breathe. His brain was fixated, horrified, shook by what Severus said.

The extermination of all magical children seven and under. Seven and under. Not just Muggle-borns, not just Half-bloods. All, meaning-"You mean to say that Purebloods actually…they actually…"

Severus poured him another glass. Harry finished it in five quick gulps. "Some pleaded their children's innocence. Those that hadn't picked a side traded their loyalty for their child's life."

Could that have been Lucius for doing what he did? Draco was born a month earlier, so he would have been spared. But Harry didn't immediately dismiss the idea.

"As for the others…" Severus shrugged. "Some saw it as a worthy sacrifice."

Just when Harry was sure his stomach couldn't have gotten any more knotted, any more sickened, he was struck down by another lash. It was unthinkable. It was unspeakable. That parents would even-even-

" _Just how fucking deep were his claws in them?!_ " Harry roared, shooting up from his chair.

Severus stared back at him evenly, furthering gassing the anger brewing inside him.

" _HOW?!_ " Harry demanded. "They were that desperate for a world without Muggles, hated them that much, they were killing to have their kids die for the cause?"

"Some even carried out the order." Severus answered back evenly.

The anger roaring inside Harry was plummeted into dust as shock twined with horror stabbed into him, causing to collapse back onto the couch.

"A trait long associated and often forgotten about the snake is their gift of persuasion. None were more skilled than the Dark Lord. Many shared his beliefs on the harm Muggle-borns were bringing into their world, diminishing traditions that have been the center stone from the very beginning. Destroying our ideals and ways to make room for theirs. The destruction was seen as a just cause to preservation of our own. No matter the cost."

Harry thought of Hitler. He thought of Grindelwald again. Men with delusional, prejudiced ideas of the new world order, but somehow attracted the attention of many who lived and breathed for their "teachings" Thoroughly, lived and breathed for those teachings. The Holocaust alone was proof how it took one charming man, a string of carefully-placed words for an entire nation to fall into chaos. Harry always thought the Wizarding World would be different, but he was beginning to see how easily it was to control and persuade in both worlds.

What happened back then was exactly what the Ministry was doing right now, acting as if nothing happened. Umbridge repeating the same crap they were sprouting that there was no threat. Based off what Severus said, the Wizarding World nearly fell apart because of it.

He glanced over at Severus. He didn't have children of his own, so it was unlikely that was the motive. He knew his uncle wasn't fond of Muggle-borns. He wanted to ask, but wasn't ready to hear that answer yet, so instead he asked:

"Why under?"

Severus's brows furrowed.

"You said he gave orders to every Death Eater to kill every child seven and under. Why under?"

"His idea of being cautious. There was no telling how old the child was. It would have been an infant recently born. A toddler learning to walk. Or even a young child about to begin their magical training. There was no telling, so seven was the number he decided on and went from there."

Harry's heart gave a tight, slow squeeze that caused his next breath to feel like a trapped butterfly. "And the Ministry?"

"Finally acted when the death count became too high to be simply marked as unrelated incidents."

Too high? Too high? Harry knew it wasn't uncommon for people share birthdays. But according to the prophecy, the child was born in July, towards the end? But when exactly? The very last day, which also happened to be his birthday? The day before that? The week? But there was also to take in country-wise? World-wise? That was a lot of people.

"How many?" Harry croaked.

Severus looked him right in the eye. "In Europe alone, four thousand."

Harry didn't know which ones fell harder: the glass that slipped from his hand or his stomach that fell all the way down to his toes.

"Give or take, at least. Particularly if we're not counting the scraps that were too maimed to be identified."

Harry clamped his mouth to keep in the burst of nausea that spiked after his toss-up in the bathroom coming back with a vengeance, stirring inside his stomach.

So…so many kids. So many kids whose lives were cut short, based on the whims of a madman unable to let go of the idea someone could actually beat him.

Memories pricked along the edges of his head. His dad returning home from the Ministry, face grim as he peeled away his uniform. His mum pulling more late-night shifts at the Hospital. Dad's face growing tighter as he read the paper. Mum's hold firm as she rocked him to sleep, sending him off to dreamland with soft kisses and…tears.

He could feel those beads dripping onto his hair before he slipped off into sleep.

"Dad caught on," Harry murmured. "He knew it was a matter of time before they got to me."

His dad was an Auror who handled grim cases, ranging from brutal assault to murder. Probably walked into those same crime scenes orchestrated by the Death Eaters, his stomach churning at the white sheets covering a small, mangled body. His mom worked at the hospital and doubtlessly glimpsed at the bodies being brought into the morgue, noticing how slightly bigger or smaller the small victims were compared to her own son, noticing the common denominator that connected them to Harry.

From then on, Harry filled in the rest. His parents decided to go into hiding. Sirius was picked as the oathkeeper, but that soon suggested Pettigrew. Halloween night.

"I survived," Harry breathed, remembering the flash of green. "He tried to kill me but I survived."

Severus said nothing, but his silence spoke more than words could.

"That just confirmed it," Harry continued, voice hollowed. He felt severed, as if his body was going one way, his mind another. "Voldemort found out my parents were going into hiding. They tried to protect me and died because of it. He tried to kill me, but I lived. I lived and they died." Harry's voice cracked towards the end, anguish leaking into his voice. "I'm responsible for my parents' deaths. All those deaths-all those kids-it's because of me. It's my fault. I'm responsible-"

Severus's hand came down on his arm with a force like thunder, gripping onto it so tightly, Harry felt the bones underneath caving in.

" _For. Nothing_." He spat, eyes fierce, tone of absolute finality. "You are responsible for, at fault of, and the cause of  _nothing!_ "

Harry looked up at him, frame trembling.

"The death order was the fault of the Dark Lord. The death count the cause of those that carried out the order. Those responsible for the destruction and mayhem leading to and following afterwards were those too ignorant to act."

Harry's eyes burnt. His chest so tight he could barely breathe.

"Your parents' deaths were the cause of them doing everything in their power to ensure you would be safe. Even if it cost them their own lives."

It was all too much for Harry. The amount of pain. The power Voldemort had, and the number of people under his control. The kids that were killed. His parents dying. Harry leaned forward and pressed his face against Severus's robes, just wanting everything to stop and go away.

The second he felt Severus's hand resting on top of his head, Harry dissolved into tears.

"Why me?" he choked. "Why? I'm just a kid. A kid, God damnit! I can't-I just…"

His frustration erupted into a gush of hot tears.

It felt like hours until he managed to pull himself away. His eyes were so puffy, it hurt to blink.

"Why me?" Harry asked again. "Why not Dumbledore? The Aurors? I'm just a kid."

"To the latter, you are the symbol meant to give people hope. To the former, he believes you are destined to do what needs to be done."

"Destined?"

"He also believes that you should be kept in the dark." Severus met Harry's bewildered eyes. "As a way to preserve your innocence. To allow you to be a child."

_To be a_ -Harry's anger sparked inside him, sweeping over him. "I haven't been a child since I nearly lost my life to that Basilisk. I haven't been a child since I saw Cedric die right in front of me. I haven't been a child since my parents were killed! I haven't been a fucking child since  _I WAS SEVEN YEARS OLD!_ "

Severus simply stared at him without another word. Harry felt some of his anger dwindle but not completely disappear, shimmering along the edges. He glanced over at his glass that was shattered pieces besides his feet. Too exhausted to use magic to fix it, Harry took Severus's glass that was almost done, poured more bourbon into the glass, and finished it in three gulps, getting used to the bitter taste of liquor.

"Should I be impressed or concerned with how quickly you're adjusting to bourdon?"

Harry glared at him and fixed himself another glass. His head was starting to get warm, too warm, and he could feel a flush coming through, heating his skin. His grip was shaky, vision a bit uneasy as he set the glass back.

"I do agree with you." He looked over at Severus. "I'm not a fan of the idea of you being in the dark. Your last close encounter with Him proves that."

Harry doubted Voldemort would wait until Harry was old enough to face him.

"So Voldermort can control me?"

Severus pursued his lips, his expression stone, as he thought on it. "I don't know if it was a possession. It didn't feel like a typical invasion. It felt like a…surge. Like a powerful surge came in and went off. But there is no denying that you and he share a bond. It is possible from that bond, some influence, again lack of a better word, came over you."

In other words, he could. "So how the hell do I fucking cut the connection?"

Severus's eyes glared warningly at his tone, but answered, "You start by learning to defend yourself. Firstly with the mind."

"Occlumency."

"Legilimency, or mind-reading as you liked to call it, was one of the Dark Lord's greatest talent. Occlumency is a way to block it."

Harry sucked the last bits of his drink, tilting his head back and bringing it back up once the liquor went down. He squeezed his eyes as he felt the warmth swirling around him, heating his body from the inside out. His eyes slipped over to Severus.

"What made him so appealing to you?" Harry asked. "Why did you join him in the first place?"

"I believe we're done here for today."

"Severus-"

"Potter." Harry knew that tone, that thin and ice-cold voice that let alerted him he was walking on thin ice.

Harry bit his lip, frustration and anger bubbling inside him. He made his way over to the door, taking longer than usual since his head felt heavy, his legs felt heavy, and he just wanted sleep.

"Harry."

He didn't turn around, but did paused.

"I feel it should go without saying that these past few months will be difficult. People from all sides, one in particular, will be looking for any sign of weakness against you. Certain things, certain people."

Harry let the words set in and released a dry sound that was a cross between a faint laugh and a snort. "Certain people? You mean my relationship with Draco?"

"This is a crucial time, where you need to vigilant. Allowing a distraction like that, flaunting it as you did this morning, puts you both at terrible risk-"

"I will stop you there." Harry turned over at him, feeling something hot and ugly burn inside him, building from within like molten lava. "Voldemort has taken almost everything from me." Anger seethed from each word that shot from his mouth. 'My parents, Sirius for most of my life, my damn sanity. I don't give a shit what anyone else has to say. I don't give a shit if people don't like it. Let people hear about the kiss. Let people know I'm now in a relationship with a person who's always been there for me, always cared for me right from the beginning. Without fear, without hesitation, no matter what, that also happens to be a  _fucking bloke_! I. Don't. Care. They can look. They can whisper. Every single of them can go to hell. But I will be  _damned_  if anyone, Voldemort especially, takes this from me too."

"Even if it puts Draco in danger?" Severus inquired in that low, even tone of his that made Harry feel like a naive child. "Even if it cost him his life? Or yours?"

Harry's knees nearly buckled from the low blow struck by Severus's words. To have that fear, that deep fear, said out loud and threw back at his face, said in such a patronizing tone cut him deep to the bone. And feed more to the anger seething inside. "Well then I'll just have to kill him first, won't I?"

The statement was taken in by a brisk, unreadable look. Severus leaned back into his chair, let out a heavy breath, and stared at the fireplace.

"Did my father have something to do with you joining the Dark side?"

Severus kept his eyes focused on the fire.

"Was Mum?"

Pure silence was given as an answer, and Harry took that as a clue to leave.

~...~

Draco was waiting for him back in the door, sitting on the edge of their bed, hands balling the Slytherin green sheets, head ducked with his narrowed eyes staring off into space with a remote look on his face, as if he were thousands of miles away. Alertness came back to him at the sound of the door.

In an instant, he was on his feet and Harry was wrapped in his arms. Harry was too tired to pretend that everything was okay. He was too tired for anything really. And, so he buried his face in the nape of Draco's neck, wrapped his arms around the solid frame, and let the scent of green apples wash over him.

"I-"

"I know." Draco said.

Harry barely surpassed a sigh. Of course he did. He had no doubt Draco was one of the first people to hear about what happened, with dozens of gossip-hungry students climbing over each other to report to him about the new " _mess_ " caused by his boyfriend.

"You sure you wanna continue on with the raging lunatic?" He imagined one-or most of them-saying.

"You're not afraid you're going to get caught in the crossfire?" He pictured another laughing, hearing the sound so clearly his skin crawled.

Harry then remembered his promise from this morning, which felt like a century ago. "What happened this morning-when I woke up I mean…I, well-"

"You can tell me later."

Bewildered, Harry pulled back. Draco's expression was somber, altered slightly by the soft smile playing across his lips. "But I-"

Draco shook his head, took Harry's hand, and led them out into the hall that was empty of students, and down to a room that was on the opposite side of the wing. The Prefects' wing, deserved for the Prefect boy and girl with their own bathroom.

It was just as grand as the Hufflepuff one Cedric helped Harry get into, including the large bath that was the size of a small pool and already prepared, overfilled with so many lavender-scented bubbles, the scent of the soap heavy in the air.

"How…how did-"

"Prefects' privilege, remember?" Draco reminded with a smile touching on the smug side. "Ranging from giving out detention slips to idiotic pests to having access to magnificent bathrooms."

Wait a second. "Does that mean you also get a new dorm as well?"

"More of a suite," Draco corrected. "And you're indeed correct. I would have moved in already, but there were some things I needed to handle first. We'll be moving in tomorrow."

Harry blinked, turning away from the bath and over to him. "Sorry, we?"

"Of course, we. You honestly didn't think I'd move into a new room without you, did you?"

Despite himself, a bewildered chuckle burst out of Harry. It seemed silly what he put it that way. After all, up until now, they'd always shared a room together. They'd always shared a bed. Probably slipped Harry's mind, given everything else, given what he'd feared and ended up telling Draco, Harry was sure things would change. That Draco would want nothing to do with him.

It was a shock and relief to that this was, at least, one of the few things he was wrong about. "You're insane, you know that?"

"I know."

Draco stepped forward and cupped his hand around Harry's cheek. A smile blossomed across Harry's lips as he kissed that hand before covering it with his own. "You're also brilliant."

"I also know."

Their lips met in a soft, light kiss that made everything from today fade into black. Body buzzing from the intoxicating sensations, Harry cupped Draco's face and swept his tongue along Draco's mouth. Draco moaned in response and held him tightly, his grip an iron clad keeping him in place.

One last kiss and Harry pulled away, vision going spotty from lack of oxygen.

"The water's getting cold," Draco bit down on his bottom lip. "I didn't go through all the trouble of putting together a good bath for the heat to go to waste."

Harry moved further down along the edge and slipped off his shoes, kicking them behind him. As his hands went to the hem of his sweater, he saw Draco was heading over to the door. "You're leaving?"

Draco paused and turned back to him, looking just as shocked by the question as Harry felt (along with embarrassment) asking it. "You want me to stay?"

"Well, I mean…" The warmth from the drinks and the kiss flooded back to his head, setting his skin aflame. "It's a big tub. I mean you put it together, so…so might as well enjoy it. Too."

Mortification and warmth curled and parried inside his body as a smirk curled around Draco's mouth. Stepping forward, he said, "Why, Mr. Potter, I had no idea you were so scandalous."

Harry had to look away from Draco's face before he simultaneously combusted. "Shut up."

Draco snickered. Cheeks flushed, Harry turned his back to him and resumed his undressing. Off with his sweater, then his under-shirt. Next were his trousers, his socks, and his glasses that he set on top of his sweater. Down to his underwear, Harry hooked his fingers around the elastic band, then paused. For a spilt second, he wondered if he could get away with going into tub with it on. After all, he still remembered how Moaning Myrtle became an unexpected bath mate last time he was in the Prefects' bathroom.

Quickly as the thought came, it disappeared like a hard kick to a ball. It would be fine. After all, it was just Draco. They had even showers together after Quidditch practice. Granted, in separate stalls, and usually one was already inside while the other was still undressing. They took baths together when they were kids, although back then they didn't see anything wrong with that anymore than they did see anything wrong with kissing each other so young. Also, given everything they've already done, it seemed stupid he would be so-

"Harry."

Nervous. A concept that was ridiculous, but as Harry glanced over at Draco, realized it was perfectly justified.

_Nervous_  blew up his heart, pumping up the organ until it took up his entire chest, nearly breaking through his throat.  _Nervous_  were heated, anxious pangs Harry felt curling in his lower stomach as he studied Draco's nude body for the first time in proper lightening. The soft light of the room emphasized his lean form, the valley of pale skin that looked soft to touch, and the eye-catching cock, long but thick, nestled between his legs in a patch of light brownish hair.

Nervous singed all sense in his brain into liquid goo that slide down from his melted brain down to the sole of his feet. By the time Harry snapped back to reality, he saw he wasn't the only one admiring.

Draco studied him just as intensely and Harry was hit with an urgent, desperate need to kiss him. Anywhere, everywhere. His hair, his neck, his chest, his lips, everywhere. And from the way Draco looked at him, the feeling was mutual. In Draco's eyes, he could see where this could go if they moved closer to each other. Fiery kisses with clashing teeth, desperate hands grabbing and groping onto any scrape of skin, Harry's lips and hands reaching as much as he could while Draco's own lips moved lower. Lower until Draco reached Harry's thighs, had his face buried in between Harry's thighs, licking and kissing and biting-

Desire spiked in Harry's stomach, so strong he nearly stumbled on his feet. Suddenly winded, he took in a deep breath.

Without taking his eyes off him, Draco climbed into the tub and floated over to the center. "Coming?" Mischief danced across those gray eyes. "Unless you plan on using your knickers as a float?"

His knickers as a-Oh, bloody Merlin. Harry looked down to see there was straining happening in the middle, and judging by the look on his Draco's face, along with pleased-smile, he caught on too.

As if this day couldn't get any worst.

"Come on, Potter, I promise I won't bite."

Harry tried to push pass embarrassment and nervousness to salvage the remaining bits of dignity he had left in dropping his underwear as coolly as he could, ignoring the pair of eyes burning holes into his skin, that burning gaze strengthening as Harry turned his back to him to add his underwear to the rest of the pile. Then, he took small baby steps over to the stairs, stepping into the water and paddling over to Draco.

Electric butterflies filling his stomach, Harry shot Draco a nervous smile. Draco answered back with a reassuring one of his own.

"Hi." Harry murmured.

"Hi." Draco murmured back.

The two moved over to the side, at the cue of Draco's nod, and Draco got to work. He grabbed a loofah and scrubbed it hard against a bar of soap that smelt like vanilla and lilac. Once the bath poof was drenched in water, he ran it over Harry's body. Arms, torso, his back and neck that were given devoted care, evaporating the tension that weighted down on him like cement, until almost every inch was limp with ease. Harry felt like putty in his hands. He gave himself over to the soft touches, leaning back against Draco.

"Who would have guessed?" Draco squeezed the loofah, drenching soapy water onto Harry's right shoulder. "The Boy Who Lived can easily be tamed by warm water."

"Shut up."

"Maybe I should switch your nickname to kitten."

Cheeks aflame, Harry snapped, "Shut. Up."

"Kitten. That seems fitting. And perfect." Draco concluded, managing to drop a kiss onto Harry's cheek, despite his dodging. "Always wanted a pet. Though, I must say, I am insulted. I was thinking all this time my kisses had that effect on you."

The heat that seared Harry's neck, spread over to his face and neck. Harry turned his head away, attempting to appear unfazed.

Draco wasn't fooled though. He could smell the smugness dropping off him when he kissed the other cheek. The heat brewing inside head exploded to the whole of his body as Draco caught his lips, softening Harry's resistance to a soft smile as pleasure danced up his spine from the familiar warmth and softness.

"Better than the bed right?" Draco inquired against his lips, moving Harry fully to him so they could properly kiss.

Harry nodded and pulled back slightly, wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulders. "So much better."

God that morning seemed to be the only highlight of today. It felt like it happened almost a month ago. A lifetime even. Everything else that happened afterwards was a complete nightmare.

Almost instantly, Harry's mood soured and the wonderful trance created by the bath, the kiss was ripped away like flimsy paper.

"Harry?"

He let out a sigh and returned his attention back to Draco, then looked away again. Fragments of his conversation with Snape, the nightmare of Voldemort taking control and Draco dying with a broken neck replayed in his head.

"What is it?" Draco called back his attention by placing his finger underneath Harry's chin and lifting it up, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Tell me."

He remembered his promise. No more hiding. No more shutting not, no matter how much Harry wanted to for Draco's own sake, not his own. "I-I had a nightmare last night. About Voldemort. And you." The next sigh that came out of his mouth sounded like a cross between a bitter laugh and angry cry rolled into one. "Because everything always goes back to Voldemort."

Draco leaned in closer, all traces of want erased from his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

The words spilled out of Harry like a broken dame. He told Draco about the nightmare he had this morning, about Voldemort taking control of him and cracking Draco's neck. How he had wanted to do the same to McLaggen for what he had said, and how close he had come to doing so. His conversation with Blaise about how there could be spies in their own dorm, and how Harry could use what happened with McLaggen to his advantage. Then his conversation with Severus. The destiny that predicted a child, one born at the end of July, would be Voldemort's equal and downfall. The number of children who were slaughtered before Voldemort set his sights on him. The lessons he'd soon be starting.

"Lessons?"

Harry nodded and moved his fingers through the water. That was once body-relieving hot, now turned cool. "To help make sure I'm not a helpless child the next time I see him again."

"You are not helpless." Draco hotly replied.

"You know what I mean." Harry snapped back, irritated. "I just…I just want this day to be over."

Draco moved forward until they were nearly chest to chest. "What can I do? Tell me."

Sighing, Harry smiled gently at him and placed his hands over Draco's. "You're doing enough for me just by being here."

Skepticism still lingered in Draco's eyes.

"Really." Harry insisted.

A flare of silver lit inside those eyes as Draco moved closer, his hands snaking around Harry's waist. "I can do more."

Need, heavy and thick, in his voice cut Harry to the core, causing him shiver. "Draco, you've done more than-"

A startled gasp burst from him as he felt a firm hand sliding down his stomach, brushing against his cock.

Harry's head came up, his green eyes fluttered open. "Draco…" His breath caught. Draco's eyes had changed. The iris and pupil had expanded, the whites of his eyes gone. The pupils were still round, but they looked like an owl or a hawk's eye, predatory and fastened on Harry. His heart leapt, beginning to beat faster with alarm.

Draco reacted instantly, his huge pupils dilating, swallowing the bright grey of his eyes. "Shhh," he cooed, his voice a mixture of honey and silk, lowering all worry in Harry's head to mute. "Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good."

Harry stared up into his boyfriend's strange eyes. It was strange and startling, but the warmth there, the love… He was still Draco, the boy he had had loved forever. Releasing a slow breath, Harry forced his body to relax. His hands, which had risen to press Draco backward, fell back into the water, sinking out of sight.

"Good," Draco approved, voice soft and crooning.

Harry watched Draco's face as he slowly ran his fingers back down his chest. It tickled and raised goosebumps along his arms, his pink nipples pebbled. Draco's nails scraped over the sensitive tips and Harry twitched, swallowing a groan as his dick began to fill quickly.

He moved so quickly, so smoothly, before Harry could blink. One second, he was floating across from him, the next he was straddling Harry's thighs, lifting both hands to his hair. He scratched and massaged, and instantly Harry went limp, his eyes falling half-closed. Resistance was a distant memory as pleasure melted down his spine, but still his heart thundered. This Draco was new and strange. It was Draco, his best friend, his boy, his, but this was so new to Harry. It made his heart race.

Little kisses rained down on his cheeks, across his lips, and turned into little nips down his neck. Harry moaned and tilted his head, giving more access without thinking about it. An approving croon was Draco's response and one of the massaging hands slipped from Harry's hair to sink beneath the surface of the water. Harry arched with a gasp, his eyes flying open as Draco drug his nails softly, teasingly up his shaft. He was instantly hard.

"Draco!" He gasped, hands flying to his shoulders and gripping desperately, green eyes wide.

Draco kissed him in answer. Slow and deep, the kiss seemed to stretch for an eternity. It was Harry who broke it, flinging his head back with another gasp as Draco gripped him firmly and pumped his hand.

"Shit... Draco..."

Draco leaned closer, to nuzzle at Harry's temple.

"Draco?" Harry groaned, hips starting to rock, pleasure rocking up and down his spine, making his toes curl. But he needed to hear him, need to know this was still Draco.

" _Har..Harry_ ," his name was a drawn out whimper.

When Harry shifted his head to look into Draco's eyes, he saw so much raw need and love and lust that he crumbled. Draco needed this as much as he did. Harry lifted his mouth and hungrily kissed him, arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Draco released his cock and they slotted together perfectly. The water began to slosh slowly at first, lapping like waves against the sand. The feel of Draco's thighs flexing, of his stomach rippling with the pleasure, loud sloshing and slapping of water against the sides and heated skin made Harry pant with desire. Draco's mouth had fallen open, shiny and red, little chirps and soft cries escaping his throat. Harry was suddenly desperate to know what other sounds Draco could make.

"Fuck you're beautiful," Harry gasped and practically attacked Draco's throat, fisting the blond hair to keep Draco's head steady. He sucked and then bit down.

Draco gave a harsh cry and suddenly Harry was pressed almost violently against the side of the pool. Draco's body worked against his, lost in a haze of need and passion. Harry clung, blunt nails scoring Draco's back. The water made everything wet and warm, but also made it difficult to get the friction they both needed. Then Draco's fist was there. Tight around them both and Harry's hand joined him and they worked together. Gasping and crying until they were screaming.

The orgasm rocked Harry to the core. It felt like his soul was draining away in the water and as Draco collapsed against his chest, Harry knew that it had. It had left him to reside inside Draco. Limp, shaky arms came up to hold Draco in place.

"Love you," he whispered, tears on his cheeks _. Forever_ , he left unsaid.  _More than anything. I'll always love you. No matter what._

A soft, half smile tugged on the Draco's mouth, almost as if he could hear every single one of Harry's unsaid words. He traced Harry's bruised-red lips with his lips, clear admiration and determination filling his eyes.

"I'll make it right." he murmured, pecking Harry's forehead, allowing his lips to linger. Cradling Harry, as if it was his life mission to protect him.

Harry opened his mouth, but his mind was too relaxed to think of the words. Not that it mattered anyway. Draco's easy smile grew softer, more honeyed as he kissed him again on the forehead and slowly lowered his lips.

"I'll make it right," Draco whispered against his lips before he kissed him sloppily, the kisses lazy but soft, and Harry let himself drift along like a discarded leave in a river. Let everything float along easily in the stream of the water, in the protective embrace, in the sweet kisses that put everything on mute.

~...~

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't a nightmare that woke Harry up, but the numbness of his right arm being twisted in a position that made it feel like a pretzel. Groaning, Harry turned over to the other side and shifted closer to his life-size human pillow, his hands reaching out to Draco, needing him closer.

Only his hand didn't reach anything.

One eye cracked sleepily opened, Harry attempted again, reaching further, directing his body more towards the left. But reaching nothing. Alarm cutting through his sleepy haze, Harry cracked both eyes opened, stunned to find the bed empty.

"Draco?"

Silence greeted him in reply.

"Draco?" Harry slowly sat up in the bed, peeling himself from the duvet cocoon that was starting to feel more like a straight-jacket.

Silence again, this time answering with a slight chill that slowly filled the room, rising the hairs on Harry's neck.

When the last of the blankets was pulled off, Harry quickly got on his feet. Draco wasn't in the bathroom. It was only two in the morning, so he doubted Draco was getting ready for classes. Also, at this late hour, he doubted in a friend's dorm. So where-

" _I'll make it right_." Draco had promised during and after their heated moment in the tub, those kisses and touches practically drugging Harry's mind until he was in a cloud of pure, calming bliss. And right again before they went to bed, with Draco sending Harry off to sleep with gentle strokes of his hair.

Make it right? Harry frowned in confusion. What make right? There was nothing Draco had to make right. Unless…

The answer dawned on Harry like a bucket of ice water, chilling him from the inside out.

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's take the moment to see the chapter number. 49. We've reached 49 of the story. And once again, I am stunned by the number. Just...my baby is grown and soon it will be hit the 50 mark. And years back, when I first started this, I thought, okay 20 chapters most. 20 chapters most, my ass. At this point...I will say we are getting to the halfway point...somewhat. But we still got tons of chapters.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, especially the Snape conversation. I really, really wanted it to be original and not just a copy and paste of the book. I also tried to be realistic with the number and fill in as many holes and such regarding the explanation. Note, there is still more that Snape didn't tell Harry, which will also soon come up in future chapters. Especially in their lessons. But I hope you still loved it.
> 
> I am working on chapter 50 as we speak, although I did hit...one too many writer's blocks with this one. I want it to be GOOD. And work tends to drain me, so the next chapter will take awhile, but I hope I make it worth the wait as I did with this one


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